


Wisdom tells me I should turn away

by Swimmer963



Series: A Song for Two Voices [7]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Abandonment, Anger, Angst, Angst and Drama, Betrayal, Conflict Resolution, Depression, Dubious Ethics, Ethics, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, I am so sorry about everything, Interrogation, Loss of Trust, Loyalty, Meddling Kids, Metaphors for artificial intelligence, Metaphors for existential risk, Secrets, effective altruism, hard decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 159,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swimmer963/pseuds/Swimmer963
Summary: When, after over a decade of cautious negotiation, Leareth finally chose to reveal his full plan, Vanyel thought he would have the answers he needed to make a decision. Instead, his life is falling apart around him. Yfandes is missing, and fifteen years’ worth of secrets are about to come out in the messiest possible way.For the rest of the Heraldic Circle, this is a revelation that will shake the foundations of everything they believe. Was Vanyel ever the person they thought? Savil isn’t sure. All she knows is that she made a promise to her nephew that she wouldn’t let him face his future alone.Jisa doesn't know anything – just that her parents are upset, and something is terribly wrong. Fortunately, Stef is happy to take an opportunity to comfort the King's daughter, and maybe even find a scheme that will solve her problems.





	1. Chapter One

_Her name is Yfandes, and she is alone._

_She has never been alone before, not truly. Since the day that she came into the world, squalling, in a white body with four hooves and blue eyes, she has always been within reach of the herd, never apart._

_And for sixteen long years, she has been with her Chosen, day and night, always._

_She never thought this would happen._

_Her Chosen._

_She thought she knew what was coming, thought she was ready for it. She was so wrong._

_She is still in Valdemar, probably – even at a Companion’s pace, it would be more than a day’s journey to the nearest border, and she has avoided the open roads, not wishing to be conspicuous – but she cannot feel the Web. She is shielding with every fibre of her being, and ignoring the pain of it, the deep wrongness of that unnatural solitude._

_She left silently, but the others will notice she is gone soon enough, and Rolan will try to find her. She is not ready to be found. Not while the conflict still rages in her deepest core._

_Not like this, she thinks, frantically, pointlessly. I never thought to lose him like this. Not to a soldier’s blade or a mage’s fire, that would have been nightmare enough, but to this new creeping horror. Everything she is built on, the one thing she thought would always be bright and clear, slowly crumbling, a landslide, nowhere solid left to stand. The strange edifice that is their bond is breaking, pulling her apart, as it has been since that first awful sting of confused betrayal, and she cannot look at it, no no no no no._

_She should be with him. It is what she is for, and he needs her. And she cannot._

_Alone, she stands in a clearing, snow and silence all around her._

_She is not angry, exactly. It would be easier, she thinks, if it were that simple. In the quiet space of her own mind, she can admit that her Chosen has a point. That the situation they find themselves in, however terrifying, is not black and white._

_That the world is broken, in more ways than she could have imagined at the beginning of their sixteen-year journey together, and that no one is trying to fix it. Not truly. Except for an immortal mage who wears and sheds the bodies of innocents like clothing, who burns lives like cordwood to fuel his unending quest. A man who would risk destroying the world in pursuit of a dream. She sees that implication clearly enough. I will not be deterred, he says to her Chosen, and so they must stop him, by violence if necessary, she can no longer see any way out._

_They have left him alone for so many years. Is it too late now?_

_Once, she spoke to Taver of riding north. She did not tell her Chosen, saw no need to alarm him – at the time he still struggled so much just to take on a Herald’s ordinary duties – and Taver’s gut agreed with hers. Wait. Their chances will be better later. It seemed right – the blue place of silver patterns is never clear, but she has done her best to follow a narrow and winding path. With Taver’s guidance, until four years ago, and she knows that the Groveborn see further._

_Except that she is no longer sure she can trust the blue that lies behind the Web, the threads that show hints at her future. Or a possible future of many, anyway, there has always been more than one way this may end. A part of her has always stood in the blue, watching, until now._

_Where can she go, if she cannot trust those threads? The place, if it can be called a place at all, is under the power of a strange and unnamed god, and so is she._

_If she could walk away…_

_She almost feels as though she could. She is unmoored, a lost purpose, silver cord fraying._

_But does she want to?_

_She wants a hundred things, half of them contradictory, all of them impossible. To take back the last day and do it over. To take back the last decade-and-a-half, and this time, somehow, she will fight with Gala, and Tylendel will survive, and everything will be different… Perhaps that alternate world is worse for Valdemar, but she is not sure she cares anymore._

_Oh, but that is a new feeling. She is a Companion of Valdemar, and to serve her Kingdom is what she is for, and yet. Perhaps some costs are not worth paying, even to save a country._

_She wants the world to make sense again. She wants everything to stop, just for a moment, so she can think._

_She wants her Chosen back. His name is Vanyel and he is hers. Was hers. Always. Only not anymore. Maybe never again. Maybe never was, always a lie. The wrongness is like biting down on broken glass when she expected fresh hay, complete with a desperate urge to spit it out, disgust and horror, wrong wrong wrong._

_No._

_The part of her that wishes to renounce him, to take back their bond and walk away, is still screaming. It would be so easy. It is the right thing to do, that voices cries._

_And yet she made a promise._

_A promise she has already broken, leaving him alone._

_It is too much, everything is too much and even inside her head is too loud. I can’t, she thinks, I can’t I can’t I can’t, a pointless refrain cried out to no one and nothing. Even if she still believed that her god-beyond-the-world might listen, she is not sure she wants this prayer to be heard._

_She cannot stay here forever. She needs to make a decision, and every part of her flinches from it. Like a pressure on her hide, it threatens to crush her._

_Start with what she knows – and a sad mental chuckle, because it is exactly how Vanyel would face it. What Leareth has taught him._

_Start at the beginning. Some force beyond mortal understanding makes her Vanyel what he is, and sets him on a course to defend the Kingdom, against a threat that seems so straightforward at first. (For a moment she longs for the world where it stayed that simple, but wishing will not change it.) Their lives are not their own, and never have been._

_–And the fury surges, that she has never let herself feel. Not for Vanyel – she has been indignant on his behalf many times before, it is a well-worn and weary anger now – but for herself. This is not a path she chose, and it should not matter, she is a Companion of Valdemar and exists only to protect and serve that Kingdom, and yet. It isn’t fair, she wants to scream. This is not what she is for. There are burdens she is not made to bear. Costs that are too high to ever be worth it. I didn’t choose it, she thinks, and for the first time, it matters. For the first time, she can admit that to herself, if only in the quietest, innermost corner of herself._

_I did the best I could, she thinks, and she is not sure who she is defending herself to. No one is listening._

_Start with what she knows. A mage called Leareth plots in the north, and for fifteen years he has spoken to her Chosen in his dreams. Perhaps he lies, and he seeks only his own advancement. She cannot know, not yet, maybe not ever, but more likely, she thinks, he tells the truth. As he sees it._

_If he succeeds–_

_–Every part of her tries to pull away from even considering it, but she bites down on it anyway, swallowing the sick horror, she breathes it in and swims in it._

_If he succeeds in part, in the creation, and yet it goes wrong, he might destroy everything._

_But if not?_

_If his success is true, if he creates a different sort of god, a being that agrees that the world is broken and would like it to be different…_

_(The cost is far too high, blood and lives, there is a bright line that must never be crossed–)_

_Ignore the cost. Would it be good?_

_Her vision darkens at the edges. There is a strange dizziness, the feeling of a gorge below her hooves, nowhere left to stand. She cannot understand why it is so hard to think about._

_It is utter madness even to attempt. Surely he must fail–_

_Ignore that. Consider only the world in which he succeeds._

_Two lens, like doubled vision. Through one of them, there is certainty, though it is dark and ugly. What the man who calls himself Leareth wants is wrong, monstrous, must be stopped at any cost, and her Chosen, her Vanyel, can no longer see that, he is changed, corrupted, she cannot trust him anymore, cannot love him anymore, wrong wrong wrong–_

_Shift sideways, look again, and it is so much murkier. Leareth, for all his centuries, is only a human being, doing the best he can in a world of chaos and confusion – and so is Vanyel, and so is everyone, and perhaps they will never know if the path they are on is the right one. Perhaps it is impossible for anyone to know; perhaps the question does not even make sense. And even so, Vanyel will never, ever stop trying, though it would be so much easier to give up. That is why he cannot turn his back on Leareth’s ideas, why he must look straight-on at that yawning horror, that most inconvenient of worlds where Leareth is the only one brave enough to fix a broken world._

_And that is why she loves Vanyel, why she Chose him, when she saw, not the shape he was then but the shape he would be. Vanyel is a pattern that cannot walk away._

_She sees both at once, somehow, and the tension threatens to tear her apart._

_We never have certainty, she thinks, as she has heard in Vanyel’s thoughts a thousand times, an echo of advice that Leareth gave him once. Not for anything in this world._

_And yet refusing to choose, refusing to look, is also a choice. A cowardly one._

_It would be good, she thinks, forcing the words through a howling whirlwind. If Leareth is telling the truth, if he succeeds in what he claims to be trying to do, it would be good._

_So why can she not even look at that possibility? Why does it make her feel sick even to try?_

_She holds her shields, but she takes a step anyway, not with her body but with her mind, not in any ordinary direction. She is in the blue, and she is still alone, threads of her trailing off into nothing. She sees only the pattern that is everything she is, sprawled out, dreams, decisions, silver threads._

_She is a Companion of Valdemar._

_And Vanyel is her Chosen._

_Those have always seemed like one and the same, two sides of a single coin. Now, she is not so sure. Vanyel is hers, was hers, because of the strange magic of Companions, something half a spell and half a miracle, set in motion eight centuries earlier – and that is an uncomfortable thought, as though her skin is turned to glass and she is looking at her own innards._

_And yet, even if that were taken away, even if there were no threads of power binding them together–_

_She would still love him. Not because he is her Chosen, but because he is Vanyel. She knows him; she has seen him in his entirety. He is a pattern that cannot walk away, never ever ever._

_And so is she. The pattern that is Yfandes is a pattern that does not walk away – but for the first time, she is entirely unsure what that means. No bright line. No certainty. Only murkiness, and pain, and the bottomless fear of failure._

_I want to go home, she thinks, brokenly, pointlessly. Home has never been a place, not since she was a filly; home is where her Chosen is, and she is not sure if it exists anymore. Perhaps it was never a real place at all._

_Stop wasting time, she tells herself. Focus. Results, not virtue – that is what Vanyel would say. He learned it from Leareth. She has talked her Chosen through every conversation he ever had with the man, hundreds over the years, and of course they have shaped her as well._

_Her thoughts tug away, spiralling in panic._

_Focus. All information is worth having, and those words are not from Leareth; a Herald of Valdemar wrote them, centuries ago. If she cannot trust that – if she cannot trust her own reasoning – then what can she do?_

_Maybe nothing. Maybe it is too late, no matter which way she chooses. She is not sure how long she has been among the trees, but darkness is falling again; she has been gone for a day, or is it two? Locked into her own mind, she is not sure anymore._

_Leaving Vanyel alone. Is he–_

_No. He is alive. She would know otherwise._

_Still, she does not have all the time in the world. It settles onto her, a new weight. The future will happen with or without her, action and reaction, an inevitable dance. What part does she want to play?_

_She wants to flee in gibbering horror from the question._

_No. Not an option. That would be only the worst sort of walking away._

_Breathe. Find the stillness deep within her, carve out a tiny pocket there. Ignore the ropes that hold her to a distant, alien god; she can feel their tugs, even now, but for just a moment she can choose not to heed them. To ignore the less visible ties that bind her – duty, honour, what it means to be a Companion. What Rolan would say. Relevant considerations, but for a moment she can set them aside._

_Just her. Just Yfandes, the mortal being of flesh and blood, not quite human, but close enough to laugh and cry and bleed._

_What does she want?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 6 ended with a bunch of Vanyel's perspective on what happened; here, you get to see some of what's going on with Yfandes (and, I hope, feel a bit more sympathetic for her).


	2. Chapter Two

Dara woke with a start, unsure if she had cried out with her real throat, or only in the final moments of the dream. She lay on her back for a moment, panting, before sitting up and throwing off the bedclothes. It was almost completely dark, only the reddish glow of a banked fire showing the outlines of her room.

Kerrill, her roommate, was still asleep, which meant she probably hadn’t screamed. Heart still hammering in her chest, she took a deep breath, then another.

Dara had always dreamed vividly, but ordinary dreams faded unless she tried to remember them. This one didn’t. It hung in her mind like a crystal pendant. Not that there was much to remember, only a single image. She seemed to be looking down from high in the air, onto a flat, arid plain far below. The sky was a blue bowl, empty of clouds. In the distance, she saw the silhouettes of tents, a smudge of smoke from a cook-fire. Directly below her, something rose from the dusty ground. It looked like nothing she had ever seen before, lumpy and misshapen, slagged stone slumping against the earth. She had the sense that it had once been something incredible and beautiful, but she didn’t know what.

That was all, and so it made no sense how _important_ it felt.

It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize. _I’m supposed to have the Gift of Foresight._ She had been in Haven for more than three years and it had never happened before. No wonder she had forgotten.

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to remember the books she had read about it, but they hadn’t been very clear or useful. _There isn’t much training available for Foresight_ , Herald-Mage Vanyel had told her, it felt like a lifetime ago. _I do have the Gift as well, so please come to me if you do have any dreams or visions._

She ought not to wake him in the middle of the night, surely. Rolan said she didn’t have the kind of Foresight that showed urgent danger, minutes or candlemarks away; hers was to be the long-range variety. Cryptic dreams indeed. She didn’t have the least idea what this vision wanted from her.

Rolan had told her to write any dreams down right away. There didn’t seem much point in writing this one down; what would she say about it? Though maybe she ought to draw it. It didn’t feel like it would fade, it was so clear, but maybe it would if she went to sleep again.

Dara pushed back her makeshift bed-curtains, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and padded across to her desk, as silently as she could. The trainees’ wing was very crowded, but her future position meant she had a better room, with only the one roommate. She felt a little guilty about it sometimes but not very. _I’ll earn it someday even if I haven’t yet._

Light a taper from the coals, transfer the flame to the candle above her desk. She dug through her notes, trying not to rustle too loudly, and found one page that was blank on the back. Paper wasn’t nearly so scarce here as it had been in her hometown, but it was still precious enough.

She scratched away with her pen, bending until her nose almost touched the paper, but she couldn’t seem to get it right. _Maybe I should learn to draw better._

Or she could tell Rolan about it. She didn’t know if all Companions had perfect memory, but Rolan did, and she was a strong enough Mindspeaker now to share her eyes, or memories, with him. After she sat in on a meeting with the Senior Circle or the Council, which she did more and more often even though she was still a trainee, he would coach her through her memory of it, giving suggestions. He would answer her questions at the time, of course, but he didn’t tend to jump in anymore unless she asked.

Sometimes she forgot how strange her life had become. She had been petrified the first few times she sat down beside Herald Tantras, far too young and inexperienced to belong, but she was almost used to it now.

 _:Rolan?:_ she tried.

She had expected him to be half-asleep, maybe irritated with her for rousing her, but he was there in a moment, fully alert. _:Yes, Chosen?:_ He seemed distracted.

 _:I–:_ She stopped. Something was wrong. He wasn’t being as open with her as usual, she could almost feel the edges of his directional shields, and even so she could pick up on his tension. _:Rolan, what’s going on?:_

 _:Nothing you need worry about, love:_ A pause. _:Yet:_

Yet. She didn’t like that word, but there was a finality in his mindvoice that was hard to argue with. _:I had a strange dream:_ she sent. _:Maybe Foresight:_

 _:Oh:_ And suddenly Rolan was paying a great deal more attention to her. _:Tell me:_

 _:Can I show you?:_ She opened her shields further to him, offering up the memory, that single vibrant moment. He accepted the Mindtouch, parting his shields further, and she tried not to prod too much at the fragments she picked up. She thought he was having a side conversation with another Companion; Rolan could talk to more than one person at once, and often had to, being the anchor for the herd as well as her Companion.

He would tell her when he was ready, she thought. She trusted him.

 _:Interesting:_ She could feel his mind moving, so quickly it was dizzying. She had asked Rolan once if he was smarter than a human, and he had given her a very cagey answer, but at the very least he could think faster, and follow more threads at once. In close rapport with him, she felt cleverer as well, though he refused to help her with any of her classes. He said it would be cheating and he was probably right.

 _:Do you know what it means?:_ she sent, hopefully.

 _:No:_ He sent a soothing wave of affection. _:We can talk about it more in the morning. Go back to sleep, Dara:_

 _:I’m not sleepy:_ She ran her hand over her hair, smoothing it down; she kept it short, to save time on combing it and washing it and keeping it out of the way when she had weapons training. _:Rolan, whatever’s happening, I want to help:_

_:I do not think there is anything you can help with at this point. We simply do not have enough information yet:_

His patient tone irritated her. _:I’m not a child, Rolan:_

 _:No:_ A hint of apology, which was the most she ever got from him. _:If we still have a problem in the morning, we may have rather a lot to do. And you will be of more use after a good night’s rest. Come down to the stables when you wake?:_

A peace offering of sorts. He would let her be involved, at least – and if there wasn’t still a problem in the morning, surely it couldn’t have been that important.

She would try not to speculate too hard on what was going on, and whether it was exciting.

* * *

Savil shifted her weight in the chair, leaning back, and tried not to yawn. Melody was still sitting on the edge of the bed, fingertips resting on Vanyel’s forehead, and had been like that for nearly half a candlemark.

Another minute later, the Mindhealer straightened up, rubbing her lower back. _:Done. That should hold for now:_ They had been Mindspeaking rather than speaking out loud, because Van had finally fallen asleep, and the last thing she wanted to do was to wake him.

_:What did you do?:_

_:Temporary block. Should stave off nightmares enough that he won’t wake himself up, and he’ll be less upset in the morning:_

_:What’s the difference between temporary and not? If it’s helping him, can’t you just leave–:_

_:The difference is that a block this broad-scope will interfere with an awful lot of things:_ Her hands fluttered in front of her, like sparrows against a window. _:Hard to be sure how badly, until he’s awake, but he won’t be clearheaded, and it will distort his ability to make decisions:_

Savil nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure she understood.

 _:I’m going to go get some rest:_ Melody added.

Savil lifted her head. _:Please don’t leave!:_

Melody’s hands smoothed the wrinkled fabric of her robes. _:I’m not doing anything. No point both of us staying up all night just to watch him sleep:_

 _:Take my spare-room?:_ It had been empty for years, Savil didn’t have the energy for students on top of her other duties anymore, but she kept it aired out and ready for guests.

 _:Really, I would only be five minutes away if I went back to Healers’:_ Melody’s mindvoice leaked irritation, rare for her and a sure sign of just how tired she was, but she sighed and nodded. _:Fine, if it’ll make you feel better:_ She stood, rubbing her knees. _:Care for a a cup of tea?:_

 _:Please:_ It would help her stay awake, and it would give her something to do with her hands other than sit on them. Not the first time Savil had sat watch at Vanyel’s bedside, or even the tenth, but this was horribly reminiscent of other nighttime vigils sixteen years ago.

At least Yfandes had been there before…

Yfandes. Who was gone, and every time her thoughts skittered away from that yawning confusion. _I don’t understand._

Andrel had offered to stay and keep her company, but she had gently shooed him out; she hadn’t wanted to explain what little they knew to him, and it was awkward sitting with him and _not_ explaining. He had a way of hovering that was usually soothing, but tonight had been putting her on edge.

_I don’t know what to do._

Nothing right now, she reminded herself. Except wait, and make sure that no matter what else might be wrong, her nephew was safe.

Their concert-work attempt to block Vanyel’s Foresight had gone smoothly enough, although Melody had taken her time, working so slowly and cautiously that Savil had wanted to scream. She thought she had at least partially blocked his Farsight as well; the channels lay close together, in whatever strange other-space where Gifts lived. It was an acceptable price, and Vanyel had seemed relieved afterwards, even if he hadn’t said anything. Savil had tried again, tentatively, to ask him what had happened, until Melody chided her for it, warning her via private Mindspeech that for the sake of all the gods she had better not put any more pressure on him right now – she had never seen Melody so visibly worried, and it scared her.

 _Oh, Van._ She longed to pull him into her arms – and she wanted to shake him until he coughed up an explanation.

 _:Kellan?:_ she reached out, half just to feel the reassurance of her Companion’s presence. _:Any news?:_

_:No. Rolan has the entire herd searching for her, but she could be just about anywhere in Valdemar by now:_

It made no sense. A repudiation would almost have been simpler – no, it would be a thousand times worse, and she pushed the thought away.

 _:We need to tell Randi:_ she sent. For one thing, she and Vanyel were supposed to be meeting with the Senior Circle tomorrow to discuss curriculum for the new Heralds’ Collegium, and she would need to give some explanation for cancelling.

–The gulf was opening under her feet again. _What’s going to happen?_ It was all moving too slowly and too quickly at the same time, and she wanted to freeze the world in amber so she could come back when it made sense again.

 _:In the morning:_ Kellan sent, along with a soothing mental caress. _:Rolan says there’s no sense ruining anyone else’s sleep, and maybe we’ll find Yfandes by then:_

Unlikely. It didn’t seem Yfandes wanted to be found. _:All right:_ she allowed. At the very least, maybe they could wrest some answers out of Vanyel once he was awake.

 _:You should get some rest as well:_ Kellan prodded.

Savil cradled the tea Melody had brought to her chest, letting the steam tickle her nostrils. _:I can’t leave him alone:_ Besides which, he was in her bed.

_:Trade off with Melody later, then. Or wake Andy and ask him to take a turn. It’s likely to be a long day tomorrow:_

* * *

_Yfandes is missing._ The thought drifted to the surface of Shavri’s mind again, piling over her worry and guilt at skipping breakfast with Jisa for the second time this week. Walking down the still-empty hall, the pale light of a winter dawn slanting through the windows, it still didn’t quite feel real. Dara’s Mindtouch had pulled her from sleep a half-candlemark ago, but the edge of alarm, muffled by confusion, wasn’t quite enough to shake Shavri fully awake. She had trouble waking quickly, in recent months; no matter how early she went to bed, she never really felt rested. Gemma had said there was nothing wrong with her, physically, and it was probably just that she shared more energy with Randi when they were touching. She couldn’t begrudge it; he needed it more than she did.

Valdemar needed him more than it needed her.

Dara’s worried voice echoed in her head. _Rolan thinks it’s a serious emergency. I don’t know what he knows that I don’t._ Well, how could it _not_ be serious, for a Herald’s Companion to be just…gone? Especially for Van.

One thing at a time. In the office of the King’s Own, Tran had asked her to track down Savil and figure out what, exactly, had happened the night before. That was a first step.

It didn’t feel like an emergency. It was too quiet, too peaceful – and too impossible. _I don’t understand._

Detour back to Randi’s suite, she had to go outside to reach the Heralds’ wing and she would need her cloak. Ignore the temptation to crawl back into bed next to his sleeping warmth. What else? She ought to tell Aber she wasn’t to be interrupted this morning. Send a note with her her apologies to the representative of the Seamstress’ Guild she was supposed to meet at noon – no, Tran knew her schedule, let him handle it. Beri could keep Jisa occupied.

Keep her mind on the details, and she wouldn’t have to focus on the reason for it. 

The crisp winter air, and the bright sunlight glancing from every snowbank into her eyes, wrenched her to alertness, dislodging some of the heaviness from her limbs. One of the Palace gardeners was clearing a side path with a shovel, and nodded to her. She nodded back.

She passed two of the younger Heralds in the hall, damp and laughing, clearly on the way back from the bathhouse. One of the women smiled and bobbed her head, and Shavri tried and failed to remember her name. Half lost in her thoughts, she found herself at Vanyel’s door before she remembered. Not here; Rolan hadn’t told Dara very much, but he had said that Van was with his aunt.

Turn back the way she had come, towards Savil’s suite.

Before she could knock, she felt a familiar Mindtouch. _:Wait, I’m coming:_

_:Melody?:_

She heard the bolt slide back, and the door opened. _:Wondered when you’d be by:_ Melody said, unsmiling. _:Come in. Be quiet, please:_

Shavri carefully closed the door behind her. _:Where’s Savil?:_ It was rather dark; someone had closed all of the shutters, and pulled the curtains across as well.

Melody ducked around her and locked it again. _:Catching a nap. Tea?:_ There was a covered pot on the sideboard, Shavri saw, and a kettle simmering over the hearth. Behind it, the door to the spare room was firmly closed, but the other door, to Savil’s bedroom, stood open.

 _:Please:_ Shavri stood uncertainly by the fireplace, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Melody’s robes were rumpled, as though she had slept in them, and her hair was coming free in wisps from its usual knot. Very unusual, and somehow much more alarming than the rest.

 _:Have you been here all night?:_ Shavri sent.

 _:Unfortunately:_ Melody passed her a steaming cup. _:Since you’re here, I’m assuming Rolan decided he couldn’t keep the lid on this anymore? I do wish people would think to warn me. If I’d known you were coming I’d have ordered us breakfast:_

Shavri, tea clutched to her breast, looked around for somewhere to sit down. _:I don’t think I know any more than you do:_ she sent. _:Less, probably. Tran sent me to find out what happened last night:_

 _:Oh. Damn:_ Mild as the expletive was, it startled her; Melody so rarely swore. _:I hoped Rolan… Nevermind:_

Shavri frowned at her, confused. _:Where’s Van?:_

 _:In there:_ Melody gestured with her chin at the open bedroom door. _:Don’t wake him, please:_

Shavri leaned away from the vehemence in her mindvoice. _:Wasn’t going to:_ They were talking past each other, she thought, unable to find purchase. _:Melody, can you just tell me everything on your end since last night? And then I’ll try to answer any questions you have. Figure we’ll both be less confused that way:_

Melody’s green eyes fixed on her, an owl’s unblinking stare, vaguely disapproving. _:And you’ll take everything I say straight to Tantras and Randale?:_

 _:What?:_ Shavri rubbed her eyes. _:Melody, I don’t–:_ Start over. Find the trailing thread. _:Are you worried about Van’s privacy?:_

Melody just looked at her for a moment. Then she shook herself a little. _:Sorry. I’ve had three candlemarks of sleep and I’m a little prickly. I’ll tell you what I know, just – have some discretion, all right?:_

 _:If it’s strategically relevant I have to tell Randi:_ But Melody knew that. _:I promise I won’t gossip:_

Melody looked around, one hand questing at her side as though for something she had forgotten, then sighed and perched on the arm of the sofa, folding and unfolding her arms repeatedly. _:Suppose that’s all I can ask:_

* * *

The world encroached on him by layers, and Vanyel tried to pull away from it. As long as he could drift under the surface, he wouldn’t have to face…something.

Sleep was receding, waves leaving him behind on an unfamiliar shore. He was in a bed, but it wasn’t his; the mattress was too soft and the blankets had the wrong texture. He couldn’t remember how he had ended up there, and that was what finally dragged him awake, unwilling. Something was wrong. Lying perfectly still, curled on his side with his face pressed into a pillow, he started to reach. _:’Fandes–:_

Like slamming headfirst into a wall of ice. He managed not to cry out as he curled away from it, trying and failing to slide back into the welcoming darkness. Vaguely, he remembered other half-waking moments. Forgetting, and then remembering. What had come before…?

“I know you’re awake.” A familiar voice. 

Reluctantly, he rolled over. “Melody? Where… oh.” He recognized Savil’s curtains, and the Tayledras masks on the wall. “Why…?” His tongue failed him, tangling over words that wouldn’t come clear in his head. _What am I doing here,_ he wanted to ask, but it seemed like he really ought to remember the answer to that question.

Melody said nothing, only watched him with one eyebrow raised.

Tug at the shreds of memory. He had been at a meeting with Joshel, and left because–

Yfandes, turning away from him, shedding dead leaves. _Don’t come after me._ It hurt, but the pain was muted, as though he was seeing and feeling it from behind a pane of glass.

Standing at the mouth of a frozen passage. Leareth. _I will not let anyone deter me. I do not wish to kill you, but I will not hesitate to do what I must._

Melody waited, patiently, as he tried to put the fragments in order. Everything after the meeting with Joshe was hazy, but he did remember standing at the top of the belltower, stars and open air all around him.

And now he was, apparently, in Savil’s bedroom. A crack of sunlight leaked under the shutters; it must be the next morning.

He couldn’t quite figure out what had come in the middle, but he could guess. _Oh, gods, this is embarrassing._ Though the actual flush of embarrassment was far away, on the other side of the glass. “I’m sorry,” he said out loud.

“Are you,” she said flatly.

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he tried to inch into a sitting position, surprised by how weak and lightheaded he felt. His head throbbed, and his exploring fingers found a tender knot on the back of his skull.

There was a question he wanted to ask, but it took a long time for the words to come. “Melody, when…?”

“What time is it, do you mean? About noon.” She uncrossed her legs and rose from the chair. “Want some light in here? I kept it closed so it wouldn’t wake you.”

He watched her as she moved towards the window. “You put a block,” he said, half-accusingly. “On me.”

“Good, I’m glad it worked. I could barely See what I was doing.” She turned her back for a moment, fiddling with the latch, and he winced. The light hurt his eyes. Melody must have noticed; she pushed the shutters wide, but pulled the curtains half across.

“Something else,” he said. “Last night. Outside.” He was angry, he thought, but it was hard to tell. “Not a block. A _compulsion_.” He should have been more upset about it. And about everything else.

“A set-command.” Melody hesitated for a long moment, then perched at the foot of the bed. “I am sorry about that, but you scared the piss out of me. I scrubbed it as well as I could, after. Could do a better job if you would stop shielding so hard.”

Vanyel shook his head, trying to clear it, though it wasn’t exactly that he felt foggy. Only numb. Even his body felt far away, but certain pressures were making themselves known.

“Melody,” he said. “Have to…use the privy.” He couldn’t understand why it was so hard to speak, or think.

“Oh. Sorry. I should’ve asked.” She stood up. “Chamber pot’s here and I’ll turn my back.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Well, I figure you’d rather not go out. There’ll be people around.”

Which was fair enough. “Can’t you…leave? Privacy?” He started to shift his legs towards the side of the bed, then stopped. “My clothes, where…?” He was apparently naked under the blanket.

“You got them wet. Here.” Melody took down Savil’s embroidered silk Tayledras robe from a hook and passed it to him, then waited. For him to ask for help, maybe, but he worked his arms through the sleeves unaided, ignoring the soreness of bruises he didn’t remember getting on his shoulders and back. Using the bedpost, he managed to stand, and stay on his feet even as his head spun.

“Melody,” he heard himself say. “Please.” She was watching him carefully, and it was humiliating.

She hesitated. “Oh, all right. Don’t fall.”

There was no retort that would make it any _less_ embarrassing, so he only turned his back on her and made his unsteady way to the corner of the room.

When Melody knocked, tentatively, and then pushed the door open – she had left it ajar – he was sitting in the chair she had vacated. _I’m not an invalid._

Melody was carrying a tray. “Here,” she said. “Drink all of that water, please, and I made some willowbark tea for your head. Needs to steep a little longer. I’ve got a bit of bread here from earlier, should still be warm, and I’ve called for a proper breakfast. Lunch.” She set the tray down on the bed, then sat beside it.

“Not hungry.”

“I don’t care. You need to eat something.” Melody looked like she was about to say something else, but she didn’t, only turned to look at the window.

There was something they were talking around, that felt too big to fit in the room. Yfandes was gone, and if he was here, and had been all night, then Melody had to know that. And Savil, presumably.

But not why. What did they think? He tried to guess, and couldn’t; it was too hard to imagine not knowing any of what he knew, and his mind wasn’t working properly.

“Melody,” he started.

“Drink the water first and then tell me.”

He remembered to lift the cup to his lips. _There, are you happy now?_

“Thank you,” Melody said, swapping out the empty cup with a steaming mug. “Sorry, I should’ve made you get some fluids in first thing.” She hesitated. “What did you want to say?”

He had almost forgotten. _Center and…_ He couldn’t ground properly. “Melody. Whatever you…have to say to me. Just say it. Not made of glass.” And yet, he felt like he was. Brittle, jagged, and he wasn’t sure what a strong gust of wind would do. “Are you angry?”

Melody looked at her hands for a moment, as though she wasn’t sure what they were doing there, and then set them down in her lap. “No,” she said quietly. “Not with you, which I assume is what you mean. I do get cranky when I haven’t slept, and I’m annoyed at quite a number of things, but not you, and that’s all my business and not yours anyway.”

It felt like sliding off a wall, so he just sipped the bitter willowbark and tried not to sway in his chair.

Yfandes. _You aren’t the person I Chose. Is this you? I don’t know what you are anymore._

Leareth. _Ten million lives is a small thing against the weight of the entire future. There could be more lights than you or I can imagine, Herald Vanyel. If I do not act, the world will never, ever change, and that would be the greatest of tragedies._

‘Lendel.

All of it hurt, but not like it should have, which was a mercy and a curse at the same time.

“Melody,” he said. “Were you going. To take the block off?”

“I don’t know. Depends. How much do you feel like jumping off a tower right now?”

He blinked. “I climbed down. On my own.” Only realizing a moment later that he was tacitly admitting he _had_ been thinking about jumping.

“Oh. I assumed I’d intercepted you on the way up.” Melody was still fiddling with the empty cup; her voice was level, and her face showed no particular reaction. “That does change things. Can you answer the question, though?”

“Don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “Would be a decision. Can’t make decisions now.”

“Hmm. That’s either a very reasonable stance to have right now, or I did something strange with the block. In any case, I think I’d prefer to leave it for now. It was a lot of work, that I’m too tired to redo, and honestly I don’t think either of us is ready to handle the aftermath.”

“Not the block. I thought it yesterday.” It seemed important for Melody to understand. “Knew I…wasn’t thinking clearly. Better to wait. I was…trying to figure out. Where to go.”

Seconds too late, it occurred to him that maybe he ought not offer any information unasked. One thing would lead to another, and if Melody knew Yfandes was gone, she would be trying to find out why, and there was no possible way to explain that without explaining everything. It was too hard to think about whether he ought to tell Melody about Leareth – which meant telling Randi, right? The King had extracted a promise from her. Under duress, maybe, but Melody kept her promises.

It was a box that would explode once he lifted the lid, and he didn’t feel ready. Wasn’t sure he could ever be ready.

Though, realistically, he didn’t think it was his decision anymore. They knew he was keeping secrets. Savil could put him under Truth Spell anytime she chose, and short of fighting his way free, which seemed likely to end very badly, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

“That’s surprisingly reasonable.” For the first time, Melody sounded almost pleased. “And explains some things. I expected you to fight the set-command a lot harder. But I imagine maybe it was a relief, at that point?”

“Still wish you hadn’t. It was rude.” That wasn’t quite the word but he couldn’t think of a better one. And yet. She was right; it had been a relief to give up control for a while, to have permission to stop fighting. “Didn’t know you could.”

“We don’t make it widely known. I’m sure you can understand why.” Melody sighed. “Oh, stop looking at me like a puppy that expects to be stepped on. Yes, we do want an explanation. No, I’m not planning on interrogating you right this minute. Or letting anyone else near you until _you_ tell me you’re ready. Tran wants to put you under Truth Spell, which I vetoed for now because I don’t know how it’ll interact with the blocks. I would rather we don’t break you any more.”

He stared blankly at her. Right. Of course Tran knew. He could find a sliver of gratitude, that Melody was trying to shelter him, but mostly it was hard to feel anything but indifferent. It was like watching the earliest beginnings of a landslide, just a few rocks tumbling but already too late to stop. It would tear down his whole life, inexorably, and he ought to have been able to care more but he couldn’t.

There were a hundred more questions he could have asked, and none he particularly wanted answered. All information was worth having, and yet, that was only words. It didn’t feel real right now. 

“Eat some bread,” Melody said, tearing off a piece and holding it in front of his nose until he took it. “If you do have the slightest idea where she might have gone,” she added in the same matter-of-fact tone, “that would be useful. Rolan organized a search, but we’ve got nothing to go on.”

Oh. He chewed and swallowed. “No.” He could have made guesses; he knew her, they had been all over Valdemar together and he could speculate on where she would go for some private thinking; but in spite of everything, some part of him felt obscurely protective of Yfandes. She hadn’t repudiated him. If she needed time alone, it seemed disrespectful to drag her back to Haven against her will.

“I do need some answers,” Melody said. “Sooner rather than later, preferably. Not because it’s strategically relevant for the Kingdom – because I want to help you, Vanyel. I’m on your side in this, all right?”

He ducked away from her earnest eyes. _Would you still say that if you knew?_

“And I’m missing context,” Melody went on. “A lot of context, given how nothing that’s happened in the last day makes any sense whatsoever. From my perspective, your Companion walked out on you for some inscrutable reason, you didn’t tell a soul, you were on the brink of killing yourself, and you asked me to block your Foresight with no explanation. I am _very confused_ , and I don’t like it at all.”

Oh. He had forgotten, and he should have remembered, or at least noticed his confusion as to how he’d been willing to go to sleep at all. It was a relief. At least he could put off dealing with Leareth face-to-face again for a while.

Put like that, he could understand the tartness in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to keep apologizing. Here.” She tore off another chunk of bread and held it in midair until he grasped it. “It happened, we all survived it, nothing’s on fire right this second, we can take some time to find our footing.”

 _You don’t understand._ A pointless refrain.

“I’d appreciate it if you could stop shielding so hard for a minute or two,” Melody said. “Given that I had to put that block in blind, just about, and when you weren’t even conscious, I should at least check my work after the fact.”

He started to protest. Melody cut him off. “Vanyel. That isn’t a request. Lower your shields for me. Doesn’t have to be all the way, I’m not going to read you with Thoughtsensing. Just from this angle – here.”

He flinched away from the strange prodding feeling; he had forgotten he was shielding at all, or maybe forgotten that _not_ shielding was an option. Now that he paid attention, it ached, like a muscle locked into cramps. To open at all felt dangerous, as though maybe his insides would fall out, and he still couldn’t center and ground properly.

“That’s it.” Mercifully, she didn’t try to Mindtouch him; he felt only the gentle, warm pressure he had come to recognize as her Mindhealing Sight, like sunlight warming his skin through his clothes. “Hmm. Oh. I put it _there_? That wasn’t what I – I didn’t even know you could do that. Huh.” He wasn’t sure if she realized she was speaking out loud. “Vanyel, are you noticing any problems from it? I’d rather not muck around in there too much, but I can tidy up.”

He wrestled with his tongue, trying to push the words out. “Can’t center and ground.”

“What, really?” She blinked, hands darting to her chin. “It shouldn’t… That’s surprising. Try while I’m watching?”

He obeyed. “Oh. I can center. Then…get stuck.” It was unnerving – he could sense the hum and flow of the earth beneath him, but when he tried to _touch_ it, to lay down roots, it felt like bouncing off a pane of glass.

“Oh, I do see. That’s awkward. Let me see – try again? Right. Okay, I’m going to try something… Hmm. Not that. Focus on your feet.”

He had forgotten he had feet, which was disconcerting to realize after the fact. Wiggle his toes…

–Like a knife to the gut, peeling back the muffling film between him and the world. He gasped, dropping the cup and curling into himself, lukewarm dregs of willowbark tea spilling in his lap.

_– Yfandes vanishing into the darkness Leareth standing at the base of the slope stars above the tower open space just a step away from nothingness fire filling the horizon a stormy night a swollen river ‘Lendel turning his back on the Gate Savil looking away telling him to go Leareth waiting patiently in the snow Yfandes walking away a sky full of stars all the lights in the world –_

Everything at once, and he couldn’t find the edges of it.

“Vanyel!” Melody was half-shouting, gripping his hands so hard it ached. “Look at me.” He felt her hand under his chin, trying to force his head up.

Her voice hurt, everything hurt, he wanted it to stop and he tried to push her away.

 **:Look at me:** The force of her Gift slammed into him, less like a hammer and more like a song. It was only a gentle push compared to the last time. He lifted his head, blinking away tears. “I’m going to put it back,” Melody said, and a few seconds later the storm faded, trickling away to nothing.

“Well,” Melody said. “Oops.” He could focus on her face again now, and she looked pale. “I wasn’t expecting that part of it to be quite so load-bearing. How is it now?”

“Better,” he admitted.

“Good.” She released his hands, smoothed her palms over her skirt. “I’m sorry about that.”

He couldn’t see how it was her fault.

* * *

“Herald Tantras,” Dara said, her voice wavering slightly. “Did we pass on the message to Briary Holding that we won’t be doing their fortifications today?”

Shavri didn’t bother to lift her head.

“Candlemarks ago,” Tran muttered without looking up. “I passed it down the Mindspeech relay to the Herald on site.”

“Sorry. You forgot to check it off the list.” Dara’s pen scratched. “There. And who’s covering Herald Savil’s meeting with…um, General Lissa Ashkevron. Wait. Is that–”

“Vanyel’s sister, yes,” Shavri interjected wearily. “Savil’s niece.”

Dara, wide-eyed, chewed absently on the end of her pen for a moment, seeming not to notice she was doing it. “Should we tell her?” she said finally.

 _I can’t believe I didn’t think of that._ Shavri dragged a hand over her face. On top of everything else, Randi was having one of his worst days, and she had drained herself to the dregs getting him through his meeting with the Lake Evendim representatives for the annexation. _We should have just cancelled it, damn it._ But Tran had pushed back when she suggested that, saying the delegation would feel disrespected, and she hadn’t had the energy to argue.

Focus on the question at hand. “Probably,” Shavri admitted. “Honestly, I forgot she was in Haven. Savil should talk to her.” They had already discussed, and ruled out, sending a messenger to Forst Reach. What good would it do?

“Put it on the list,” Tran barked. “And can’t you be quiet for five minutes? I’m trying to focus.” He was bent over the side table, both elbows resting on the wood, sliding his finger along each line of the prospective treaty. Checking Van’s work from the previous day, which they had decided was necessary in light of, well, everything. Shavri had spent a candlemark banging her head on the stupid treasury-budget, approximately the last thing she had wanted to do; Savil would have been much better placed for it, but she was busy trying to check some kind of mage-working Vanyel had been scheduled to set up on the western border yesterday. She had already been interrupted three times for Web-alarms, which she said was about right and didn’t indicate anything unusual. It was just that Vanyel usually handled nine-tenths of all the alarms, using his Farsight, his Mindspeech range, and his ability to work through other Heralds with potential mage-gifts to set things right far more quickly and cleanly than Savil could.

 _How in the name of all hells does Van get more done in a day than I do in a week,_ Shavri thought, trying not to let the resentment show on her face. Dara, already floundering, would probably think the expression was aimed at _her._

Dara blinked rapidly, gulping. Shavri sighed, and reached out to her with Mindspeech. _:You’re doing fine, Dara. Tran’s just in a bad mood because he’s tired, it’s not because you did anything wrong. Don’t let it get to you. Chin up, all right?:_

Dara nodded, though she didn’t look particularly reassured.

“Is Savil here?”

Shavri hadn’t heard anyone coming, so the familiar voice in the doorway startled her, and she dropped her pen on the floor. Swearing under her breath, she bent to retrieve it.

“No,” Tran said flatly. “She’s in the Web-focus room.”

Shavri reached out along a private link. _:Melody, why aren’t you – I thought you were watching Van:_

 _:Left Andy with him. I’m not an idiot:_ Melody’s face was very controlled, but her mindvoice was pure acid. “Thank you,” she said out loud. “Must be why I can’t Mindtouch her.” She started to turn.

“Don’t just leave,” Tran snapped. “Melody. Update?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell you in a minute. Shavri, may I speak to you privately?”

Tran started to rise. “Anything you can say to Shavri, you can say to me.”

“Herald Tantras.” The tartness in her voice could have curdled milk. “It’s girl talk.”

“Oh.” He subsided, cheeks reddening.

In spite of everything, Shavri found she had to bite down a snicker as she dragged herself up from the stool, aching feet protesting. The small meeting room two doors down from the office of the King’s Own was empty. Shavri pointed Melody into it, and shut the door behind them. “Girl talk? Really? Are you going to complain to me about your monthly?”

Melody, dropping the calm mask, scowled, though not at Shavri. “I’m fifty-two years old. I don’t have monthlies anymore.”

 _No, you can’t be._ Shavri swallowed the exclamation of disbelief. Melody didn’t look much over forty, if that. “What, then?” she said.

Melody’s shoulders slumped. Shavri had never seen her look like that – uncertain, confused, exhaustion in every line of her body. “First, I could really use a hug,” she said in a small voice.

“Oh.” Shavri felt a wave of guilt. She should have noticed that Melody was upset, but it would never in a hundred years have occurred to her to offer. Well, better late than never. She took a step forwards and held out her arms. Melody was taller than her, and much broader; embracing her felt pleasantly like sinking into a plush rug.

 _I think I needed that just as badly._ Which Melody might well have guessed.

 _:I do have updates:_ Melody sent, switching to private Mindspeech, her chin still resting on the crown of Shavri’s head. _:He’s awake. It appears I’ve pulled a Jisa and accidentally invented an entirely new type of block:_

 _:What, really?:_ Shavri didn’t always listen as much as she really ought to, when Jisa came home eager to talk about her lessons, but after four years she had a good enough sense of the terminology.

Melody gently disentangled herself. _:Don’t sound impressed, it’s not a good thing. It’s always touchy putting in a block without the patient’s cooperation, and he wouldn’t lower his shields even in his sleep, so I couldn’t see what I was doing. Honestly, I still don’t understand what I did. He can center but he can’t ground, which doesn’t make any damned sense:_

 _:Oh:_ Without even thinking about it, Shavri went through the familiar pattern, center-ground, so ingrained that it felt like a single motion, and took three tries before she was able to center without immediately doing the rest. _:That’s bizarre. Are there any techniques that cut off both? I mean, I can’t think why you’d want to do that for its own sake, but incidentally:_

_:Yes, a dissociative-block does. Along with just about all deliberate action. Most people aren’t very functional. It’s particularly extreme for Vanyel, actually, I’ve used it with him once and he was catatonic, couldn’t even follow simple commands:_

Shavri pushed down the curiosity, it sounded like a fascinating story but it was none of her business, and tried to think. _:Well, what did this look like?:_

 _:Let’s just say someone who didn’t know him well or have context on the situation might not notice anything unusual. Very muted emotional responses, but he could hold a sensible conversation, and there was some goal-directed behaviour – he was more passive than usual, but that could just be the remnants of my set-command, in hindsight I was a lot more forceful than I needed to be. Or it could be a deliberate choice on his part:_ Melody seemed less upset, and more curious, which was what Shavri had hoped for. _:It reminds me a little of a technique Lancir taught me, something like a partial dissociative-block, but that cuts off recent memories as well, and this clearly doesn’t, since he was able to talk me through some of what he was thinking last night:_

 _:Oh:_ Shavri felt her shoulders tense. _:Anything informative?:_

 _:For me, yes. Not for what you and Tran need, particularly:_ Melody was silent for a moment, crossing her arms across her chest and rubbing her collarbone with one hand. _:I think it would be safe for someone he trusts, ideally you or Savil, to ask him some questions now. Carefully:_

It was more than Shavri had thought Melody would offer, unasked; she had expected she would have to push, because Randi wanted answers _yesterday_.

_:Are you sure?:_

_:No, I’m not sure of anything right now, but I’m willing to take the risk:_ Melody shook her head. _:I’d do it myself, but…well, this is outside my scope. And I’d like to avoid putting myself in a position where the Heraldic Circle needs to put me under Truth Spell:_

The hint of bitterness in her voice was surprising; had it bothered her that much, the last time?

Melody’s eyes flicked to Shavri. _:Would you be up for it?:_

Shavri hadn’t gotten that far. _:Randi’s probably going to want a Herald talking to him:_

 _:Fair enough:_ Melody tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. _:Seems fine for Savil to do it. Only, I really ought to be watching, and I need a few candlemarks:_

 _:Was it that bad?:_ Hesitantly, Shavri reached for Melody’s shoulder.

Melody sighed and leaned against her. _:It was my own fault. I coaxed him to lower his shields a bit and I was trying to revise it to a more normal block. I’m not a strong Empath, but I was fully open, trying to pick up everything I could, and, well…:_

 _:You got Empathy-blasted?:_ Shavri guessed. _:Gah. I’m sorry:_

 _:He didn’t mean to:_ Melody shook her head. _:I don’t think he realized he’d done it. My own fault, I should’ve been ready:_ Her eyes sharpened. _:That sympathetic face looks like it comes from experience:_

Melody was far too perceptive sometimes. _:Old history:_ Shavri admitted. _:Sixteen years ago. It was when he was first Chosen, with newly-awakened Projective Empathy and no training, and about as upset as you would expect given…:_ She trailed off. _:Didn’t stop me from visiting:_ She ran a hand over her hair, fidgeting; the curls were already misbehaving. _:I can’t regret it, but I don’t know what I was thinking, sticking my nose in that hornet’s nest. I suppose I was young enough that tragedy seemed exciting:_

 _:How old were you?:_ Melody’s smile was small and sad.

 _:Thirteen:_ It felt like another life. _:I’d been in Haven three months, and I didn’t have too many other friends yet. I was lonely and homesick and I guess I had nothing better to do with myself than to go hover at some stranger’s sickbed and pretend it counted as an adventure:_

She had been so young. So unsure of herself, though she’d tried to hide it behind chatter and bravado. Years before she met Randi, when she was only a child from the country, and all she had going for her was her Gift and her mind. _Clever girl_ , her teachers had praised her, but her social skills had left a lot to be desired, and monologuing about her favourite books had been a questionable way to make friends – though that strategy had worked well enough with Vanyel, later. She _had_ been lonely, and bored, looking for something to fill a void.

Strange thought, that she had known Van more than half her life.

Melody chuckled. _:You’ll have to tell me more sometime. You know, it’s hard to picture you as a little girl. Feels like you came into this world already a mother to one:_

Shavri shook her head. _Oh, that’s a story all in itself._ And not one that she ought to tell Melody. Too many people already knew about Jisa’s parentage, though at least no one had publicly made the connection after Herald Jaysen’s sacrifice. _:Ready to go back?:_ she sent. _:We should tell Tran what you told me:_

Melody smoothed down her robes. _:Thank you for letting me talk through it with you. It was helpful:_

 _:You’re welcome:_ It hadn’t occurred to her until now, but Melody was the only Mindhealer in Haven. There was no one else she could consult for advice. Shavri could scarcely imagine it.

 _:You know:_ Melody sent wryly as she pushed the door open, _:just last week I was thinking I was bored here. Should’ve been careful what I wished for:_

* * *

Stef was crossing the gardens, cloak wrapped tightly about himself, when he heard something. Sniffles, from the direction of a bush.

Intriguing. He stopped walking, listened intently. Female, he decided – already the most probable case, girls cried a lot more often than boys – and young. A student? He was about midway between the House of Healing and the new wing for trainee Heralds, and not too far from Bardic either.

It wasn’t anyone he knew, though, at least not any of the girls he’d heard crying before. He could go on, if he wanted to – but he didn’t have anything for two candlemarks, aside from lunch, and comforting girls when they were upset was often a good way to make friends.

He ducked off the path, wading through the snow and wincing as it crept in over the tops of his boots; they were castoffs, too large for him. Nudge his way between the denuded rosebushes…

“Heya,” he said cautiously.

The girl huddled on the edge of the dry fountain lifted her head, wavy brown hair straggling over tearstained cheeks, and aimed a suspicious glare at him. She looked about ten or eleven years old, though he couldn’t see much of her under her bulky woollen cloak, and her features were familiar but he couldn’t quite place her.

“Is something wrong?” he said. “I heard…”

“You’re a Bard!” she interrupted him, leaning forward eagerly, swiping a hank of hair out of her eyes, all of her distress apparently forgotten. For a second, anyway.

“A trainee,” he admitted. “How–” He stopped. “You’re Jisa, aren’t you? The–” _The king’s bastard,_ he thought but managed not to finish, it was probably offensive.

“Yes.” Her eyes were downcast again. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Stef.” He hesitated. Jisa seemed like a good person to be friends with – the daughter of the King, after all, even if she wouldn’t ever be in the line of succession – but he was suddenly unsure if he was welcome. She didn’t tell him to go away, though, only sniffed again and looked down at her swinging boots. He took a deep breath. “Jisa, can I sit with you?”

She thought about it for a long moment, her small face solemn and closed, and then nodded without looking up. He swung himself onto the round ledge of the fountain beside her.

He still didn’t know how she had guessed he was a Bard – he wore his old clothes for sparring, not his rust-red student uniform, and his cloak was so faded it was more grey-brown now – but it seemed like an awkward time to ask, so he just sat for a while, swinging his legs in rhythm with hers. After a minute or two had passed and she hadn’t told him to go away, he tentatively put his hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if she had even noticed, until ten seconds later she sighed and shuffled over, leaning against him.

 _Well, she isn’t crying anymore._ Her brown eyes were fixed straight ahead, and her breathing was still a little uneven, but a moment later she scrubbed her face with one mittened hand and then turned a watery smile to him.

“Better?” he said. “Jisa, you can tell me what’s wrong if you want.” Oops, maybe that had been presumptuous. “You don’t have to!” he added quickly. “If it’s private.”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Stef, thinking quickly, dug out a mostly-clean handkerchief from his pocket. She blinked at him, blew her nose, and then folded her hands in her lap.

It was a long time before she spoke, and he had already assumed she wasn’t going to. “My mama’s gone,” she said, her voice tight and hoarse from crying. “She wasn’t even there at breakfast, we _always_ have breakfast, and then my lesson was cancelled and I had to do sums with Beri instead and Mama came back and she’d been _crying_ but she wouldn’t say why! And then Herald Tantras came and they were shouting at each other, only in Mindspeech and they blocked me so I don’t even know what about.”

Stef was still trying to catch up. “Sorry, who’s Herald Tantras?”

Jisa kicked a clod of snow from her boot. “He used to be King’s Own but then his Companion died and now Dara is only she’s not old enough.”

That didn’t exactly clarify matters. _I should learn all the Heralds’ names_. It was all written down in the Archives, but it wasn’t like he’d tried to memorize it before.

Dara, Dara, that rung a bell… Right, he remembered the rumours now, talk of how a new Groveborn Companion had appeared and Chosen a child instead of the old King’s Own. It had been right before Harvestfest, the year that he had stupidly broken his ankle and missed the performance.

Jisa went on talking as though he hadn’t interrupted, like a snowball rolling down a hill. “And Uncle Van was going to come for supper tonight but Mama said he can’t, and she was very upset but she wouldn’t say why. No one will tell me what’s happening!”

Wait. “Uncle Van?” No. Surely that didn’t make any sense with the royal family genealogy… “Is that Herald-Mage Vanyel?”

“Uh-huh.” Jisa didn’t seem to think it was all that important. Well, she wouldn’t. Daughter of the King, he reminded himself, not a street-orphan from a town no one had heard of. “He’s not really my uncle,” she went on, matter-of-factly. “But it’s like with the Tayledras, where if people are very good friends they’re called aunts and uncles.”

Medren had talked about the Hawkbrothers, too, and how his Uncle Van had friends in the Pelagirs. It had sounded very exciting to Stef.

“Something’s _wrong_ ,” Jisa said, lower lip sticking out. “I know it is.”

“Come now, I’m sure it’s fine.” He patted her shoulder. “Your mama would tell you if something was really wrong, right?”

“She wouldn’t,” Jisa muttered. “She never does. Thinks I’m too little.”

Which was plausible enough, Stef had to admit. _Why did I say completely the wrong thing?_ “I’m sorry.” She gave him another wan smile. “What are you doing out here?” he said finally. It was very cold; moving, he could stay just barely warm enough, but sitting still he was already shivering. _I hate winter._

“Hiding from Beri.” Jisa made a face. “We were learning how to do a book of accounts and it was _boring_.”

“Who’s Beri?”

“My governess.”

“Won’t she be worried about you?”

“No.” Jisa’s smile was almost a real one this time. “She’ll complain to Mama but she doesn’t really mind. She was bored too.”

Stef, to his credit he thought, spent almost five seconds considering whether he ought to aid and abet her attempt to get out of lessons. Well, it seemed like she was having a bad day. Surely it was understandable. “Want to come hide somewhere warmer?” he offered. “There’s the library at Bardic. No one will look for you there.”

“Oh!” Interest flashed across her face. “I’ve never been there before.”

“You’re in for a treat.” Stef hopped down from the fountain and then offered his arm to her, gallantly. “My Lady, would you come with me?”

Jisa giggled and took his hand. The distraction didn’t work for long; five paces down the path, her mouth had drooped into a frown again. Stef thought about trying to cheer her up with something silly, but decided against it. He knew better now. Girls who were upset didn’t always want to be cheered up, not right away.

He kept his face solemn as well, he didn’t want her to think he was mocking her feelings, but inside he was almost smirking. _Medren won’t believe this._ It might not seem like it meant much, but it was already clear that Jisa would overhear all sorts of gossip about Kingdom business.

 _I wonder why Herald Vanyel can’t go to dinner._ Maybe Medren could find out, and he could assuage Jisa’s curiosity. That ought to warm her to him as well.


	3. Chapter Three

The days were short, this soon after Midwinter, and the sun was already sinking into a bed of clouds above the horizon. Savil’s eyes were itchy and watering. She had snatched maybe four candlemarks of sleep, close to morning, though it hadn’t been restful. It felt like every innocent creak in the walls or cricket-call from outside her window had yanked her awake. 

She had napped for a half-candlemark in the early afternoon, mostly by accident, with her head pillowed on her arms in an empty meeting-room. With that to restore her, she felt just barely able to push onward.

“Tran’s right,” Randi said, and she wasn’t sure she had ever heard him sound so tired. “We need to know. If there’s some disaster we don’t know about, just waiting to catch us unawares…” 

Savil pressed her lips together against the angry retort. _Van wouldn’t do anything that would harm the Kingdom._ Did she really know that? She hadn’t seen Sunhame coming.

And even in Sunhame, Yfandes had backed him entirely. When she tried to think what he could possibly have done that was _worse_ , to drive his own Companion away…

Like the ground opening under her feet. Maybe nothing would ever make sense again. 

Around her, every face was a closed book. Randi, Tran, Shavri, Melody, and Dara. For now, Joshel and Keiran, and the rest of the Senior Circle, knew that something was going on but no details. Damage control; it had been Rolan’s first instinct, and Randi’s as well. Contain what was happening until they understood it.

“Savil?” Randi said, and every eye turned to her.

Her face felt like a clay mask, drying and cracking, ready to shatter if she let any expression slip. _Stop looking at me,_ she thought, pointlessly. “You want me to talk to him.”

“It would be my preference.” Melody, damn her, looked perfectly unruffled and alert, though she couldn’t have gotten much more sleep. “You know him better than anyone, including me, and he trusts you.”

 _:Melody, I’m exhausted:_ She reached out along a private link; she wasn’t about to whine in front of everyone. _:I don’t know if I’m up for this right now:_

_:I know. But Shavri’s the only other person he’d be anything like comfortable with, and she’s not a Herald. And, honestly, she’s less up for it than you are:_

Savil couldn’t imagine why. Shavri, at least, had slept last night – though she looked almost as tired as Savil felt, sitting next to Randi with her hand over his. Randi was holding up under the unanticipated strain better than expected, but he was fading as well. He didn’t have the stamina for long meetings anymore.

“We could bring in someone else,” Tran offered. “Someone less involved–”

“No.” Melody’s voice was stony. “We’ve been over that. Later, maybe. We know Savil isn’t objective, but honestly, none of us are. We’re not here to make an impartial judgment – just to figure out what’s going on at all. At which point you can start worrying about something more formal. Now isn’t the time.”

“We’re talking in circles.” Randi pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Savil. Can you?”

Take a deep breath. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.” Randi nodded briskly. “Go, then. Dara, Tran, please stay. Let’s figure out what we need to reschedule for the rest of the week.”

He hadn’t mentioned Shavri, but the Healer stayed where she was. She hadn’t spoken at all in the meeting, and she had avoided Savil’s eyes.

Worry about it later. Savil pushed her chair back and levered herself to her feet. Keep moving, one step after the other, and maybe she could stay ahead of the ground crumbling under her feet.

“Oh,” Randi said suddenly. “We’ll have to pull in Sandra and Kilchas at some point tonight. Not to tell them any details, but we’ll want them handling all the Web-alarms for a while.”

He wasn’t talking to her, so Savil stayed on her path towards the door, Melody on her heels. Kilchas and Sandra would want an explanation, and she didn’t have the faintest idea what Randi would tell them – but it wasn’t her problem to solve, right now.

Tran’s angry words from before lingered in her mind. _We’re all thinking it, right? That he’s done something unconscionable. Given that, I don’t think now is the time to be handling him with kid gloves._ And then Melody had pointed out, calmly and reasonably, that they weren’t going to get _any_ answers out of Vanyel if he went to pieces on them, and Savil had cringed internally, thinking how much Van would hate them discussing him like this, behind his back. It was such a minor note, that should have been buried by far more pressing issues, but it bothered her.

She passed Joshel in the hall, arms full of papers, a clerk trailing him; he gave her an odd look, but said nothing. Still, it set her heart to racing again. _Don’t look at me don’t don’t don’t._ She wanted to crawl under a rock and hide forever.

Which didn’t bode well for her ability to manage what promised to be the hardest conversation she had ever had. _:Melody:_ she sent, catching the Mindhealer’s eye as they walked. _:I really don’t feel ready for this. Can we talk, first?:_

 _:Of course:_ Matter-of-fact, no judgement at all; as usual, the clean, crisp edges of Melody’s Mindspeech were soothing, leaking hardly any overtones. _:My rooms?:_

Since hers were taken, that seemed reasonable enough. It would be a walk, to get to Healers’, but maybe going outside would clear her head.

–Going outside was worse. She passed three people she knew on the main path. Huddling in her cloak with her head down, Savil tried to look very busy. It wasn’t until Melody’s door was closed and bolted behind her that she could relax even a little.

She had never been in Melody’s personal quarters before. It was very pleasant. The suite had roughly the same layout as Shavri’s, but felt less crowded. Spacious. A lacquered wooden table, big enough to seat four comfortably and covered by a lacy tablecloth, stood to one side of the room, beside a laden bookcase. A blue sofa hugged the other wall, with a simple end table topped in black stone to one side, and a plush rug stretched across the center. There was a large tapestry on one wall, incredibly detailed – it showed a small river, water foaming over stones, against a backdrop of trees and sky.

Simple, but it looked lived in. Melody had been here four years.

Melody saw her looking. “My daughter,” she said, with some pride. “Lives in Traderest now. She makes rugs, mainly, but she’s always got something like this on the go. Took her two years.”

 _I didn’t know you had children._ It seemed like a stupid thing to say, and it wasn’t the time for chitchat anyway, so she kept her mouth closed. Of course Melody had her own life, that Savil had never even asked about. Children. Had she been married? She had never mentioned a husband.

“Well, sit down.” When Savil didn’t move, Melody propelled her towards the sofa. “First. Do you know any good trance-exercises? I want you to take five minutes and center yourself a bit.”

 _We don’t have time._ But Melody was watching expectantly, so she rested her hands on her knees and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she did feel calmer, and more grounded in her body – far too aware of her upset stomach, in fact, lack of sleep and stress always made her guts uneasy.

Melody had taken a seat next to her, and produced a silver tea-tray, now resting on the black table. “So,” she said, pouring and offering Savil a cup. “What’s on your mind?” 

Savil reached out with her Othersenses. Melody had solid privacy-shields on her walls – she recognized Sandra’s work – but she added another layer anyway, wincing at the strain of it. She had been doing mage-work all day, and she could feel the early beginnings of a reaction-headache tightening behind her eyes.

“I don’t–” Deep breath. _Steady._ “I’m scared,” she admitted.

“Of what he might tell us?”

“That. And what’s going to happen next.” She wrapped both hands around her teacup, determined not to let Melody see them trembling. “What they’re going to do to him. Tran’s furious, and Randi… I don’t even know what he’s thinking.” Except that he had to put Valdemar first, no matter how close a friend Vanyel was. Or had been.

“That’s very understandable.” Melody’s voice was gentle, soothing. “One thing at a time, all right? That’s one reason I don’t want Tran or anyone else in there with you. Keep it simple. You don’t need to be Herald-Mage Savil, representing Valdemar. Try to set that aside until after. For now, you’re just Vanyel’s aunt, and his closest friend. Can you do that?”

“I can try.” She took a sip of tea, stalling. “Melody, I don’t – I’m not angry,” or at least she didn’t think she was, “but I am upset with him. I know it’ll only make things worse, but I want to _shake_ him right now.”

“Also very understandable. It’s a lot to take, and a very difficult position that he’s put you in.” Melody paused, eyes darting past her to the bookcase. “And hopefully there will be a time, later, when you can clear the air. Now isn’t that time. If it’ll help to get it off your chest, you can tell me, though.”

Savil nodded. And then stopped, because she hadn’t bothered to think _why_ she was upset. “I, just… I’m hurt that he didn’t come to me last night, I guess.” Or the night before, when Yfandes had actually walked out. To her surprise, her eyes were burning. “I thought he trusted me.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Melody’s sympathy almost made it worse. “If it helps, Savil, I think he might have gotten there eventually, if we hadn’t found him first.”

“Really? I was under the impression that if we’d been any slower, we’d have found a body.”

Melody shook her head. She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “He told me that he had just come _down_ from the tower when I spotted him. He admitted he was stuck on where to go next, but whatever was going through his mind at the time, he knew he ought to wait before making any permanent decisions – and that, given his state, he couldn’t trust himself to be alone.”

“Oh.” Savil stared down at her tea. “That’s surprisingly reasonable.”

“I had the same thought.” A hint of pride in Melody’s voice.

Did it change how she felt? She wasn’t sure. “Melody, it’s not only that he didn’t come to me when she left. It’s – whatever he _did_ , to make her leave, I wish he’d trusted me enough to tell me. Not because it was strategically relevant to the Kingdom, just…as a friend.”

“Which also makes sense.” Melody hesitated. “Savil, I’m going to say some things, that I think you need to know going into this conversation.” She paused until Savil looked up. “Vanyel cares about you a great deal, and trusts you deeply, and I think that might be _why_ he didn’t come to you. It’s always worse to be judged by a friend than a stranger, right?”

 _I don’t know where this is going_. Melody was waiting, though, so she nodded.

“I’m making some big guesses here,” Melody went on, “but earlier, I was fiddling with the block I put on him, and, well, I upset him and I got a faceful of what he was feeling. He was terrified. I was picking up some guilt and shame, but…mostly not that. I think that whatever happened, he doesn’t exactly regret it – he’s deeply confused, but he was trying to do the right thing.” She set down her teacup, and folded her hands over her knees, fingers weaving and unweaving. “Savil, I don’t like talking about my patients without their explicit permission, but I think this is important. One of Vanyel’s deepest fears is of being abandoned. Which makes sense, given that the single most significant event in his life was his lifebonded partner deciding that burning down a forest was more important than the person he loved. You see that?”

 _Ouch_. Savil leaned back, sucking in her breath through gritted teeth. “Yes,” she managed.

“And his Companion just left,” Melody said. “Can you imagine how _you_ would feel, in that situation?”

No. Her whole mind flinched away from it, and she almost reached for Kellan just to reassure herself that he was still there.

“Exactly. And, Savil – the last time you tried to have a conversation, about a fraught situation where he had only been trying to do the right thing, how did you react?”

Her eyes were stinging again, and her throat wanted to close. “We resolved it,” she forced out.

“Eventually. After, what, weeks of not speaking to each other? I think Vanyel knows he can’t handle that right now. Not from you as well. _Because_ you’re the person he cares about most in the world, and having you turn your back on him, even temporarily, would break him.”

She closed her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“Can you be sure? Savil, before today, would you ever have predicted Yfandes would do this to him?”

No. Of course not. “I…” She trailed off.

“Where I’m going with this,” Melody said, “is that I need to ask you to take all of the very understandable feelings you’re having, and try your best to keep them to yourself. Because Vanyel is extremely vulnerable, right now, and I don’t know what driving force held him together enough to get down from that tower, but I don’t trust it to stand up to any more betrayals. And, honestly, if he decides that he really and truly wants to kill himself, I don’t think either of us could stop him.”

Like a void opening under her feet. Betrayals. _I thought I was the one feeling betrayed._

“Savil.” Melody’s voice was firm. “Look at me.” She lifted her head, shakily. Meeting Melody’s green eyes, she felt the corners of the room soften just a little. “This is incredibly unfair to you,” Melody said. “All of it. It’s too much to ask of anyone, and I understand that, and it doesn’t change anything. All we can do is make the best of it. Right now, Vanyel needs you to be his rock. One solid thing in his world. All right?”

She felt it settling on her, like the weight of armour. “I know.”

“Good. And I’m here for you as well.”

“Thank you.” Savil looked blankly at her hands for a moment, wrapped around the cup. An old woman’s hands, all bones and tendons under thinning skin, and it still surprised her a little. “I’m ready.” As ready as she could ever be.

“Not yet. I’m done unsettling you now – take another five minutes in trance to settle yourself. And then try to hold onto that. You’re going to need it.”

* * *

Maybe ten minutes later, she stood outside her own door. _Steady._ She checked and reinforced her personal shields, and raised her hand to knock.

“Coming!” The voice was Lissa’s.

Randi, candlemarks ago, had given her the unenviable task of figuring out what to tell her niece. In the end, she had gone with the minimum possible. _Van’s having a very hard time._ Lissa, thank the gods, hadn’t asked any probing questions – just, apparently, dropped all of her regular duties to see her brother. Andrel would appreciate the break, at least.

She heard the bolt slide back, and Lissa opened the door, offered a brief one-armed hug, and then stepped aside to let them through. She wore her usual off-duty attire: a man’s linen shirt, open at the neck, and heavy canvas trews. Her boots rested on the mat by the door, and her knitted stockings, patterned in pink and purple, looked amusingly out of place. Probably a gift from Lady Treesa.

Vanyel was awake, sitting on her sofa. He wore one of her Tayledras robes, the golden-brown one; it didn’t suit his colouring, he was paler than she was and it made him look sallow. He was still shielding hard, and his expression gave away nothing, but he sat straight enough. The remains of a meal were sprawled out on her table.

“Aunt.” His voice was flat. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

It wasn’t what she had expected. “Hey, it’s all right. How are you feeling?” He just looked at her. Right. That was probably the wrong thing to say.

Lissa hovered by the table. “Should I go?”

“We need to have a private conversation,” Melody said, rescuing Savil, who had no idea how to respond.

“Oh. That’s fine then.” Lissa padded over to the sofa and bent to hug her brother, kissing his forehead. “I’ll be back later, Van. Hang in there.”

His expression didn’t change at all. It was unnerving.

 _:It’s the block:_ Melody sent, following her gaze. _:Sorry, I should’ve warned you:_

First things first. She reached into her dwindling reserves, and started casting every privacy-spell she knew. Vanyel watched her, but with no sign of curiosity, or any emotion at all.

“Vanyel, are you tired?” Melody said. “Savil and I need to talk to you, but you can lie down for it if that’s easier.”

“No.” The word seemed to fall on the carpet with a thud, resting between them.

“Can I sit next to you?” Melody added.

“If you want.”

 _This is going to be impossible._ Savil dragged her own overstuffed chair a little closer, and sat.

 _:Get it out in the open right away:_ Melody prompted her. _:Let him know what this is about:_

“Vanyel.” She tried to catch his eyes; he was looking at her, sort of, but somehow it felt like he wasn’t _seeing_ her. “We need to know what happened with Yfandes.”

Five seconds or so passed before he answered, as though it had taken him that long to hear the question at all. “I know.” It was like a stone wall was speaking to her. “Should’ve told you before. Fifteen years ago.” His speech was odd, the words emerging in irregular spurts.

 _What?_ She tried to smooth her face, but the surprise and confusion must have shown. _Be a rock,_ she reminded herself. “Vanyel, what happened fifteen years ago?” If he’d said sixteen years, she would have known what – well, no, clearly not, but there would be more options.

“Leareth.” He wet his lips. “I talked to him. In the dream.”

“What?” The word slipped out before she could stop herself, sharp and accusing.

He flinched. “Wanted to tell you. Yfandes said no. Taver as well.”

It didn’t make sense. _I don’t understand._

 _:You don’t have to understand, yet:_ Melody sent. _:Just listen:_

Vanyel had stopped speaking, his eyes fixed somewhere around her left nostril.

“What did he say to you?” she said finally.

Another pause of seconds. “Taver?”

“No, L-Leareth.” She stumbled slightly over the name. Years since she had spoken it out loud, even if it was a cold weight always in the back of her mind. “In the dream.”

“I don’t–” He stopped. “I’ll try. To remember. The first time, he said, I think… That he…was going to conquer Valdemar. To kill as few people…as he could. Build an empire. That…would be better. To live in. Said he had the plan…for a thousand years. Didn’t want…to kill me, but I couldn’t stop – no. Said he wouldn’t. Be deterred.” He closed his eyes, bowing his head. “Not all of it. His plan. What he told me then. I said, I couldn’t let him, and he said. He couldn’t…expect anything less. Of a Herald.” Lifting his head again. “I took notes.”

Savil’s head was reeling, even as she tried to fit the disjointed sentences together in her head. _Where are your notes,_ she almost blurted, but there were other questions piling on top, tangling in her mouth. _The first time?_ “How many times,” she said carefully, “did you talk to him?”

“I don’t know.” He licked his lips again. “Maybe a hundred. Could be more. Should have notes. For most of them.” The words still came in bursts, with long pauses in between.

She felt like she was falling. “Where are your notes?” she said faintly.

Melody’s Mindtouch interrupted her. _:Let’s get to details later. Broad strokes first. It’s hard for him to focus, and jumping around will make it worse:_

“In my room,” Vanyel said. “My chest. Under the bed.”

Was he telling the truth? She hadn’t laid a Truth Spell – Vanyel wouldn’t know, if she cast the first level only, but it felt wrong not to tell him. And wrong in general. Herald-Mage Savil, questioning him, would put a Truth Spell on him for it, but no one did that in a conversation between friends. And Melody was right – that was what this needed to be, for her to be able to do it at all.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to regain the thread. “We’ll worry about that later.” Pause. Reorient. “Yfandes and Taver knew?”

“Yes. I told…her…right away.” A flicker of something across his face, and his breath caught.

Melody laid her hand on his back. “Hey. Center and – just center.”

He stiffened and then leaned into her touch, trembling. Savil felt a pang in her chest. Some distant part of her wanted to slap Melody’s hand away.

 _:I know you want to be the one comforting him:_ Melody sent. _:Just stay back for now, all right? He’s very overwhelmed and it’s putting strain on my block:_ A longish silence, broken only by Vanyel’s ragged breathing. _:You can keep asking questions now:_ Melody sent.

Try to figure out where she had left off. “What did Taver say?” She had the sense that she was bungling it, somehow, juggling threads and dropping the one that mattered most.

“I went to him…with a question,” Vanyel said. “Leareth claimed…he was immortal. I asked for proof. He met Taver once. Taver would remember. So I asked.”

It took her mind a moment to catch up, and then there was another sideways tilt. Leareth. Immortal. _What?_ It was impossible, and she started to open her mouth–

 _:Feelings to yourself:_ Melody prompted. _:Deal with it later:_

“Right,” she said, trying to anchor herself on the sound of her own voice. It couldn’t be true, but she had to leave it for now. Move on, listen to the rest of what Vanyel had to say. _Be a rock._ “And then what did Taver say?”

“He was…shocked. Wanted to go. Think about it. After, he told…’Fandes…not to tell anyone else.” Vanyel only stumbled a little over his Companion’s name.

Focus. She still felt like she was missing something, but– “Did anyone else know?”

“Lancir. By accident. When I…had a problem. On Sovvan. Took down my shields.”

She opened her mouth to ask what year, but after a moment she remembered. Right. It would probably have been in 792. At least a year after it had started – she realized she hadn’t asked Vanyel for an exact date, but she didn’t want to go back for it now, when Melody had told her to avoid jumping around.

Lancir. _You never told me._ A creeping desperation to the thought, like a drowning woman grasping for a rope. _I trusted you._

It wasn’t relevant now. Broad strokes. If Yfandes had known since the very beginning... “Vanyel,” she said, very carefully. “What changed two days ago?”

“He told me. The rest of his plan.”

“And that was?”

Vanyel hesitated for nearly a minute, this time. She started to open her mouth. _:Wait:_ Melody interrupted her. _:He’s thinking. Let him:_

“Need to explain. Other things,” Vanyel said. “For it to make sense.”

 _None of it makes sense._ She nodded warily. “Go on.”

“Leareth says…he’s trying to make the world better. Fix things. Children starving in the streets. Even here. He wants that to stop. Everywhere.” Vanyel’s voice was still toneless. It felt wrong; there should have been some kind of emotion there, but it was as though he was reading from a book that someone else had written, one he didn’t find particularly interesting. “Could be lying. Thought he was. For a long time. Now I believe him. I think. About what he cares about. He says all people are lights in the world, and, and–” Vanyel broke off, sucking in a shuddering breath.

 _:Be quiet a minute, Savil:_ Melody sent, sharply. “Vanyel, hey. I know. Just make space for–”

“He said his name doesn’t mean ‘darkness’,” Vanyel said, interrupting Melody, the words coming faster now. “Said it means the night sky. The stars. Lights in the world. They all matter.”

 _Lights in the world._ The phrase tugged at her, obscurely painful.

“And why exactly,” Savil said, more sharply than she’d meant to, “do you think that he’s telling the truth?”

 _:Careful:_ Melody prodded her. Savil closed her eyes, briefly, and managed not to snap something back. _Be a rock._

“Lots of reasons. Can’t explain…it all.” Vanyel’s face was empty of expression again, like a pool briefly disturbed by a storm, now still. “Things he said. Things he did, in…other lives.”

Savil didn’t know where to go with that. She felt a surge of frustration. Was he _trying_ not to answer the question?

 _:Fifteen years worth of context:_ Melody reminded her. _:He can’t give you all of that in a paragraph, and you need to remember that he is under a heavy block right now. He’s finding it very hard to communicate his thoughts in words. Give him some credit for how well he is doing:_

Savil nodded, taking a deep breath and let it out. _Steady_. “What else do I need to know, for it to make sense?”

“…I don’t know.” Vanyel shook his head, as though dodging flies. “I learned from him. Things that helped. And, he apologized. For killing ‘Lendel.”

“WHAT?” She nearly fell out of the chair.

 _:Savil. Calm down:_ Melody’s mindvoice was like a slap to the face – not frustrated, exactly, but certainly loud. _:Not. Helping:_

Vanyel had pulled away from her as far as he could, huddled against the back of the sofa, frozen.

“I’m…sorry I shouted.” Her heart was still racing, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. She was…maybe it was better not to think about what she was feeling, yet. It was hard to figure out why her reaction was so strong, because she had known, right? That a certain ‘Master Dark’ had been responsible for killing their mage-gifted children, and in service of that had once hired a bloodpath mage called Krebain, indirectly setting off a chain of events that ended with half a landholding burned to the ground and her beloved student dead. She’d thought that was ancient history, set aside in the past. Going into this particular conversation, maybe she had forgotten. _I don’t know how I could ever forget._

That Leareth himself knew, enough to apologize for it – had he known what Tylendel was to Van? What did _that_ imply? And that Vanyel had gone on talking to him afterwards… How? Why?

Think about it later. 

Melody was murmuring something to Vanyel that she couldn’t hear. Finally, nearly a minute later, he uncoiled himself and sat up straight again, rubbing at his face with his sleeve.

 _:I’d thank you not to shout again:_ Melody sent, tartly. _:Nearly destabilized my block:_

 _:That’s possible?:_ From what she knew – which wasn’t a lot, to be fair – it shouldn’t be.

_:Apparently. Just be careful, please:_

_:I’m trying!:_ She rubbed her arms, which were suddenly covered in goosebumps. “I’m sorry,” she said again. _:Melody, is it a bad idea to ask him to explain more?:_

_:Probably:_

Come back to it later, then, even though she had so many new questions. “Can you tell me Leareth’s plan?”

Vanyel looked past her, then shook his head. “More background. The gods were…interfering. With his plans. Still are.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “Made things happen. So I…was a mage. Probably. Best guess. So I…would fight him.”

Oddly, that was the least surprising thing so far. “Right.”

“Shadow-Lover’s involved too.” Vanyel stopped and, to her surprise, yawned. He shook himself. “Don’t remember…if I told you. I talked to him. The Shadow-Lover. Four times.”

Oh _._ No, he certainly hadn’t told her. She would have remembered that. “When?”

“In k’Treva.When I…ran away.” He closed his eyes, clearly thinking hard. “When I was poisoned. During the war, when I was ill. And…after Highjorune. Leren.” Then he was looking at her again. “The last time. I saw Mardic and Donni. And Jaysen.”

Like a punch to the chest. Later, she told herself, even though she wanted to ask a thousand questions. _Oh, Jay…_ She didn’t think of him as often, anymore, and when she did the pain of missing him was a dull ache, more scar than wound. Still. She would have given nearly anything for one last conversation.

“I thought people only talked to the Shadow-Lover when they were dead,” she said.

“He always gives me…a choice.” There was something eerie about it, the way he said the words with no feeling in them at all. “Whether to…go on, or go back.”

And, obviously, he had decided to come back every time. Surprising. _I’m not sure what I would say, if I were offered the same choice._ Vanyel had a hundred times more reason to welcome death.

 _We’re getting off track._ “Right,” she said again. “Now can you tell me Leareth’s plan?”

Again, it took Vanyel a long time to answer. “I think so,” he said. “I–”

“Stop.” Melody took his arm. “Take a minute. Center yourself.”

 _:What?:_ Savil sent. She hadn’t noticed anything.

 _:Just trust me. Whatever it is, this is the part that’s most frightening to him. I mean, it sounds like it’s why Yfandes left, and she would already have known everything he did about Leareth:_ A pause. _:Maybe not. I’d already noticed that he wasn’t as open with her these last few years:_

Years? Savil managed to keep her reaction off her face, but it shook her.

“He said,” Vanyel started, “that he had to fight the gods. Or else nothing…would ever change. Tried every other option.” His shoulders were hunching again, as though waiting for a blow. “He’s going to…create a different god. That has the same goals. To fix what’s broken in the world.”

Whatever Savil had been expecting, it wasn’t that. It was almost anticlimactic. _Oh, is that all?_ She had braced herself for…she didn’t know what, and she tried not to sag visibly with relief. Relief probably wasn’t the right feeling to have at all.

“Was three days ago,” Vanyel said dully. “…I think. Lost track. Didn’t tell ‘Fandes until that night, I was…trying to get my head around it first. She was angry.”

Savil found her hands digging into the fabric of the chair-arms. “What was she angry about?”

“That I wanted. To think about it first. Before we decided what to do.” Vanyel squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching. “That I…wasn’t sure he was wrong.”

Oh.

“I understand. Why she was scared,” Vanyel said, unprompted. “It could go really wrong, if it did, it could be… The worst thing. That ever happened. She said it – she said she couldn’t think of, of many things that could…destroy the world. But this could.”

What? Savil hadn’t thought of that, at all, but now her mind was racing ahead, trying to follow _why_ that was an implication. It was hard to catch her breath.

 _:Ask him what Yfandes said:_ Melody sent.

Did it matter that much? Melody seemed to think so. “Vanyel, what exactly did Yfandes say to you?”

Vanyel’s brow furrowed, more confusion than pain. “I…don’t remember…all of it.”

“That’s all right,” Melody interrupted. “Don’t dig too hard for it, just tell us what you do remember.”

 _I hate this._ Savil felt like she imagined an un-Gifted soldier might, picking her way through a field of mine-spells that she couldn’t even see, a deadly dance, fully aware that she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was doing. That every step might bring some incomprehensible catastrophe. Melody was her dance-partner and they were off-balance, not quite in rapport.

“She said there are lines you don’t cross,” Vanyel mumbled. “T-that–” his voice faltered, ”–that she’d handled it wrong. Before. When we talked about Sunhame.” He shuddered, briefly. “She said, ‘I feel like I don’t know you. You aren’t the person I Chose.’”

Savil rocked back, glad that Vanyel wasn’t looking at her. _Gods. That sounds like…_ She didn’t finish the thought. “Then what?” she prompted, gently.

“Then she blocked me out. She said ‘I can’t do this. I have to go.’ She t-told me not to come after her.”

 _:That’s enough:_ Melody sent. _:Change the subject. And decide right now exactly what you urgently need to know, because we’ve got about three more minutes of this before I lose the block:_

Gods. Savil tried to string out the timeline of it in her mind, making a story of it, seeing if it held together yet. Van would have first talked to Leareth in…790? 791? And followed his Companion’s inexplicable advice not to tell anyone. Lancir had found out – she could have asked a lot more questions around that, but maybe it wasn’t urgent. Skip over fifteen years, during which Vanyel must have gone on talking to Leareth, hundreds of conversations. Knowing what he had done. Who knew what they had talked about? Not the time to open that box now. And then–

“Vanyel,” she said. “What changed between you and Leareth, two days ago? Why did he tell you this now?”

Another ten-second hesitation. “Four years ago I…told him that, that if he was telling the truth. I wanted to work with him. Needed more information. For him to trust me…enough to tell me.”

“For _him_ to trust _you_ enough?” she burst out, before she could stop herself.

“Yes.” Still looking straight ahead, his expression dead. “Took years. Guess he was ready. Said it was time to…take a leap of faith.”

Unpack that later. “Right.” The climax of the story. “And then you decided not to sleep, I’m guessing because you didn’t want to talk to him?”

He shook his head. “Took jervain. Didn’t work. Had the dream anyway. Twice in a row. Never happened before.” 

Oh. “And?”

“He told me the rest. Said there was danger coming. In centuries. From the Mage Wars. Echoing back. Some kind of storm.” Vanyel turned his head away, ducking into Melody’s shoulder. She barely caught his voice. “. And…the cost. For his plan. Would have to kill ten million people. For blood-power.”

She was relieved that Vanyel’s eyes weren’t on her, because it was impossible to keep the horror off her face. She felt sick. _Why didn’t you say that right away?_ It seemed like by far the most important part of all of this. A new yawning abyss, too big to take in.

 _:Save your feelings for later:_ Melody sent curtly.

Right. Focus. Put it away in a box, that was already full to overflowing, but she could hold it back until she was out of this room. Somehow. Was there anything else… “And then I imagine you didn’t sleep the rest of that night, and worked through the day? Andrel said you took some kind of stimulant.”

“Moondance’s drug.” Another long pause. “Hoped…she would make up her mind. If I could wait.”

The rest of it fit together well enough. She had used the Tayledras drug, once, for a long-ago fight after two days on her feet hunting down a bandit mage. It had worked very well for its intended purpose – she had handily defeated the mage despite two days of no sleep – but the comedown had been rough. For Vanyel, already without Yfandes, alone, terrified that Savil would denounce him if he told her the truth… It wasn’t surprising that had taken him to the top of the belltower. There was an ache behind her breastbone.

“I understand,” she said, quietly. _:Melody, I think that’s everything I need to know. Can you think of something I’m missing?:_

 _:I don’t think so:_ Melody reached for Vanyel’s shoulder again. “Hey. That’s all for now, all right?”

He did look tired, Savil thought; he was swaying, and had gone a shade paler. “No,” he said. “Savil. Whatever you…have to say to me. Can you just. Say it?” There was a tic at the corner of his mouth, and she saw that his hands were trembling again, but he stubbornly met her eyes. “Are you angry?”

 _:I’m really not sure you should answer that honestly:_ Melody sent. _:But he doesn’t like to be lied to. Just be careful:_

Savil didn’t need to be warned. _I’m not stupid._ Her heart was pounding in her throat, pointlessly – this wasn’t the kind of danger she could outrun or out-fight. “A little,” she admitted. “I – Vanyel – I don’t know how to feel, yet. It’s a lot. But I care about you, all right?”

His eyes clung to hers. “I was trying. To do the right thing.”

“I know. I believe you.” Which was true, even if she wasn’t sure what else to believe, yet. And it hurt, trying to reconcile that with everything else – a desperate contradiction, a tearing feeling in her chest. “Vanyel, we’re going to try to make this right. Whatever that means.” She swallowed against the aching lump in her throat. “Together. I promised, right? That you wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then sagged back against the sofa, all the tension leaving his body. For a moment she wondered if he had actually lost consciousness.

 _:Melody:_ she sent, alarmed. _:Was that the wrong–:_

 _:No, that was exactly the right thing to say:_ Overtones of relief, then suspicion. _:Do you really mean it?:_

 _:Yes:_ It was a lot more complicated than that, she had ten times more questions than she had started out with, and a headache, and she didn’t even know where to begin – but maybe it didn’t matter. One thing at a time. _I’m here, ke’chara._

 _:Good. It took a lot of pressure off the block. Help me get him up?:_ Melody shook Vanyel gently. “Let’s get you properly to bed.”

He was unsteady on his feet, but they made it to her bedroom with no mishaps.

“Savil?” Vanyel said, faintly, as she pulled the blanket up to his chin.

“Yes, _ke’chara?”_ It was the first time she had called him that endearment since the start of the conversation.

“I’m sorry.”

She thought of several answers, and rejected them. ‘You’d better be’ wasn’t helpful at all. Neither was ‘so am I.’ “I know,” she said finally. “Shush. Just sleep now.”

He rolled over, curling on his side. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I can’t stay long.” She needed, desperately, to get out of the suite; it was her home, and it felt stifling. Maybe that claustrophobia came from her own shields, locked down so tightly she could barely breathe. Besides, now that this part was over, she had to – gods, she would have to tell Randi and the others.

It made her want to dig a hole in the ground and hide forever.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she said, a peace offering.

 _:Shouldn’t take long:_ Melody sent. _:I’m giving him a little push:_

Vanyel’s hand crept out from under the blankets, searching, and Savil sat down on the side of the bed and laced her fingers with his. Reinforcing her shields even further, she stroked his hair with her free hand, and tried very hard not to cry. _Where do we go from here, ke’chara?_

 _:He should be asleep now:_ Melody sent, an eternity later. _:I need to be somewhere else for a while. Could you ask your friend Andrel to come watch him again?:_

 _:He’s probably at the House of Healing:_ But he would come, if she asked. _:Just a minute:_ Drop the connection, center and ground, reach. _:Andy?:_

 _:Yes, love?:_ Worry and affection.

_:I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you come sit with Van again?:_

_:Of course. Just give me ten minutes so I can make some kind of excuse to Aber:_

She felt guilty for a moment; she wasn’t telling him _anything_ , and he was still setting aside his life to help, just like he always had for her – like one autumn sixteen years ago – but it wasn’t enough to change the conclusion. _:Thank you, Andy:_

* * *

It was more like half a candlemark later that they finally escaped. Vanyel had half-woken just as Andrel was settling in, frantic and disoriented in the throes of some nightmare, and Melody, after a brief conference, had convinced Andy it was safe to dose him with valerian again. _Safer than putting in any more blocks, anyway_ , she had claimed, and Savil had to trust her judgement on that.

The sun was already setting, staining the sky in reds and purples. In the hall, Melody stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall, and rubbed her temples.

“Headache?” Savil said. She rolled her neck; her own tension headache was fading now.

“Overused my Gift.” Melody grimaced. “Haven’t done that in years. _Ow_.” She switched to Mindspeech. _:You handled that well. Went about as smoothly as we could ask for:_

 _:Really?:_ That hadn’t been Savil’s impression. _:I felt like I was sliding down a cliff the entire time. And you kept telling me off:_

 _:I wasn’t telling you off:_ Melody pushed herself away from the wall. _:I’m sorry if it came across that way. I can be short with people when I’m trying to concentrate:_

Savil started walking again, slowly, waiting for Melody to fall into step, and trying to frame the question she wanted to ask.

Melody must have guessed exactly what her silence meant. _:You’re wondering if I believe any of what he said:_

Savil flinched. _:Yes:_

A soft sigh. _:I didn’t pick up any sign he was lying. Not that I could see much at all, with him shielding so hard:_

That wasn’t exactly what Savil had meant, but she let it slide. _:You seemed really worried. Is he going to be all right?:_ She pushed the outside door open, and a blast of icy air smacked her in the face.

Melody pulled her cloak more tightly around herself and followed. _:It depends if his Yfandes comes back. And what she decides to do:_

Get the worst out first. _:If she repudiates him?:_

 _:Don’t make me answer that question:_ And Melody sped her pace, forging ahead.

“I’m sorry!” Savil said out loud, jogging to catch up. _Ow._ Her bad leg throbbed; the old break still bothered her on cold days. “Melody. What do we do next?”

The Mindhealer gave her a look, though in the dusk it was hard to read her expression. “Well, I suspect _you_ need to go talk to the King.”

“Can you come with me?”

“I’m not sure if that’s appropriate.”

Melody wasn’t a Herald, but neither was Shavri. “Please,” Savil said, hating the whine that had crept into her voice. It was humiliating, to ask, but the alternative felt worse. “I _really_ don’t want to do this, Melody. It’ll be easier if you’re there. Besides, Randi might have questions you’re better placed to answer.”

“All right. Fine. If you can convince Randi I ought to be there, I’ll come.”

Some of the tension in her gut eased, just a smidgeon. “Thank you.” She ought not to ask any more, but she was going to anyway. “Can you help me prepare for it? I want to make some notes. Put it all in a better order.”

“And sort out some of what you’re feeling?” Melody guessed wryly.

“…Yes.” There was an itchy, seething pool in her belly, and she wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear or confusion or something else entirely. She kicked a clod of snow, sending it flying. “Melody, there’s something Lancir did for me once, in a similar situation. Some sort of loop to help me stay calm.”

“I know what you mean. You want me to do that? I can, but I should warn you that there are risks. Anything like that is at least somewhat distorting – our emotions exist for a reason, and sometimes they give us very important information. It’ll interfere with your ability to notice and react to an emergency, of course, and it's likely to make you worse at reading other people.”

“Yes, well, I’m terrible at that at the best of times.” Maybe not terrible, anymore – it had been years since she’d asked Kellan for help regularly.

Kellan. A note of confusion, like tripping over a missing stair. The last candlemark had been one of the most stressful of her life, and she hadn’t reached out to him. At all. _:Kellan:_ she sent.

 _:Yes, love?:_ Light and warmth and affection, flowing into her.

 _:I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you:_ She tried to return the wordless care.

_:It’s been a busy day. How are you holding up?:_

With Kellan, she could be honest. _:Struggling. I’m exhausted, and I need to tell Randi and the others what I just learned, and–:_ Stop. She probably ought to tell her own Companion as well. And she didn’t want to. Which was a worrying sign.

_:It’s worse than you thought?:_

Was it? _:It’s…different. Bigger:_ She shuddered. _:But less urgent than it could have been:_ Fifteen-year-old news. There were far too many implications to chew through, but no decisions to be made on the scale of minutes, or even days. At least, she didn’t think so.

_:Chosen, you don’t need to fill me in yet, if that’s too much to handle. I’m guessing you’ll brief Dara along with Randi? I can learn from Rolan:_

_:No:_ She wanted Kellan to hear it from her, not Rolan, and she wasn’t sure why that felt so important. _:I’ll tell you, I just need a few minutes to find my footing. Listen, can I come out to the stables before I talk to Randi?:_

 _:Of course, love:_ Another silent mental caress. _:I’ll be here:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand yep, it's all coming out into the open now. This is going to be messy and a lot of things are going to change.


	4. Chapter Four

Shavri gripped his hand under the table, and Randi returned the squeeze, and a pulse of wordless love through their lifebond. Only that, no Mindtouch, and he kept his shields locked in place and avoided turning his head.

“So that’s it,” Savil finished, and laid her palms flat on the table. “Questions?”

Silence.

Savil had been efficient, at least, which made up for how long she had taken this afternoon; it was well after sunset now. She had set down a pad of notes in front of her, and rattled through all of it in five minutes, quickly enough that Randi’s emotions were still fighting to catch up, even as his thoughts darted ahead, marking down threads to follow, questions, possibilities.

Mostly confusion, so far, and grasping denial. _It can’t be true._

Randi wished his Mindspeech were strong enough to have Sondra listening in for all of this, he would have loved to know what she thought, but he needed his full concentration to reach her at this distance. Unlike stronger Mindspeakers, he struggled to hold an open link while doing something else, even with his own Companion – she could boost his Gift in emergencies, steadying the connection, but she didn’t offer that often. Easier to catch up afterward.

He found his voice. “Thank you, Savil.” And then ran out of words; he hadn’t made it that far.

Silence.

Randi shifted his weight in the chair, and massaged his thigh with his free hand. His back ached, like it always did lately after more than ten minutes sitting up or standing, and a cramp was making itself felt in his leg. Even the singing tension in his gut wasn’t enough to bring him to full alertness; he had given in and taken painkillers, and his head felt stuffy. _I hate this damned illness._

It seemed like no one else was going to speak. Randi pinched the bridge of his nose. _Come on, wake up._ “I for one need some time to absorb this before I’m ready for questions. Anyone else have initial thoughts?” _Help me out here, people._ He waited, forcing his eyes to play over the faces. Most of which were carefully blank. 

Tran was the first to lean forward. “Savil, do you _believe_ this?”

Randi turned to catch Savil’s eye; she looked over at Melody.

The Mindhealer only fidgeted with the cuff of her robes. “If I had to guess, he was telling the truth as he saw it. But I wouldn’t wager money on it. Not with him shielding the way he was.”

And, since Savil had inexplicably declined to use the Truth Spell on him, they had no way of knowing. _Damn it._

“Honest isn’t the same as true,” Tran pointed out, dryly. “I mean. The whole thing sounds so implausible, doesn’t it? A mage who claims to be immortal and on track to create some kind of god. What’s really more likely, that it’s true, or that – well, we know Vanyel isn’t that stable. Not his fault, but could be he finally snapped.”

 _I wish…_ That would be a simpler explanation – and, Randi realized a moment later, not much less concerning.

“Yfandes is gone,” he pointed out. “That’s a fact we know for sure, and it needs some explanation.”

“Van’s done plenty of bad things,” Tran fired back.

True, but Yfandes hadn’t left over the blood-magic. She had backed him fully to Rolan, a big part of why the closed Heralds’ Court had judged that his actions were justified – if they couldn’t trust the ethics of Companions, what _could_ they trust?

Belatedly, Randi shifted his eyes back to Melody’s face. “This is your domain of expertise. Do you think, um, insanity is a possible explanation?” He hated to put that way, but there was no point tiptoeing around it.

“Not particularly. There are a few different ways a mind can be out of contact with reality, and this doesn’t look much like any of them.” 

Which Randi had to take at her word. There had to be some way of checking… Come back to it later. He laid his palms flat on the table, letting his gaze drift from one stony face to the next. “I don’t think we can expect to come out of this meeting with a full plan. We just don’t know enough yet–”

“It’d be awfully helpful to have Van here, for that,” Tran said harshly. “Instead of him sending Savil in his place.”

Savil’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t send me. Randi volunteered me, and I would actually like some credit for the _very frustrating_ conversation I just had, to bring you this. Trust me, you got it in much better order than I did.”

Tran started to open his mouth, but Randi held up a hand, and he closed it again.

“Moving on,” Randi said firmly. “One thing. I don’t think this is an emergency, at least not on the order of candlemarks, or even days. If what Vanyel says is true, even in part, it’s been that way for years. Decades.” That had been one bare note of relief. “We can afford to take some time. Learn more. So. What are our main questions?” It was a meeting-structure that Darvi had taught him, for problems that seemed overwhelming. Gather information before trying to draw any conclusions. He could cling to that.

Silence.

“He took notes,” Savil said, weariness weighting her voice. “Or claimed he had, and he told me where to look. We could check.”

“Put it on the list, then.” Randi started to glance at Dara, who hadn’t said a word so far, only fixed her eyes straight ahead. She had to be overwhelmed, and it was seeming like less of a good idea to have brought her into this – but she had already bent her head and started taking notes, unasked.

“Anything else?” he went on, when she had finished.

Dara, tentatively, lifted a hand. “If we find Yfandes,” she said in a small voice. “We could ask her. Rolan’s sent word to the rest of the herd, they’re searching.”

“Do we trust her side of the story?” Tran’s voice had an edge. “If any of it’s even true, it means she kept this from all of us. From Rolan.”

Randi tried not to cringe. “That’s worth noting. Let’s come back to it.”

Another strained silence.

“I had a thought,” Shavri said suddenly. “I mean… It’s not one question, whether it’s true. We can split it into parts. Maybe Vanyel is just losing his mind. Maybe he had the dreams, but they aren’t true Foresight. Maybe they are, and he really was talking to a mage called Leareth, but the part about immortality is some kind of clever bluff. Or, even if he really is immortal, he could be lying about his plan, or about the reasons for it.”

It was an impressive analysis; Randi felt a surge of pride, and tightened his fingers around hers. His thoughts had been drifting in that direction, but it hadn’t been nearly so clear in his mind.

 _The reasons for it._ Savil hadn’t dwelled on that part, much, but that one sentence stood out in Randi’s mind. Vanyel had wanted to think about it first, because he wasn’t sure Leareth was wrong. It made his chest ache, a bottomless well of confusion and pain. _Why?_

It didn’t seem worth focusing on that point, yet, when they still didn’t know if they were trying to draw conclusions about something that had really happened.

“Vanyel would have had a reason for believing him, about the immortality,” Shavri added. “In the scenario where he was in his right mind at the time, and the conversations were real, I mean. He’s not so gullible.”

“Savil…?” Randi started.

“Well, there was Taver. He is immortal – we know that’s true – and apparently he remembered meeting Leareth, at some point in the past. That’s all I got out of Van, so far.”

“Taver’s dead.” Tran’s voice was flat. “We can’t verify that part.”

Randi winced. “I suppose not,” he said quietly. “There could be more, though.” Shavri was right – the Vanyel he knew would have been very skeptical.

 _Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought._ Like the ground sliding out from under his feet.

“Quite possible,” Savil allowed. “I was trying to keep the conversation short. Melody warned me against pushing him.”

Several pairs of eyes moved towards Melody. The Mindhealer tugged at her sleeve, eyes dancing from the doorway to the wall. “We could have another go tomorrow. He might be more coherent after another night’s sleep.”

Randi nodded. “Melody – if you can, I want you to assess him more thoroughly. What can you do, to get a better sense of whether he’s sane and these memories are real?”

A short pause. Melody’s hands darted up to adjust the neck of her robes. “I would need him to lower his shields, so I could do a more thorough scan of his mind. If I can get him to agree to it, which I’m not sure of.”

Randi lifted his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think we can afford to wait. Can you, er, use your Gift to convince him? Or take his shields down yourself?”

Silence.

“I could.” Her voice was cool. “It’ll have consequences you won’t like.”

He met her flashing eyes. “What consequences?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” The Mindhealer folded her arms. “If I take his shields down by force, it will cause permanent damage. And it’s a massive violation of trust. He might never want to speak to me again, after. Or you.”

Randi closed his eyes. “I understand. I think it’s worth it.”

“Are you giving me an order?” Melody’s voice was pure ice. “I’m not in the Heralds’ chain of command. But…fine. I’m not stupid either, and I can see how high the stakes are. If you can convince Aber – no, if you can convince every senior Healer in Haven – then I’ll do it.”

Randi swallowed, bowing his head. _Is this a decision I have the right to make?_ Having to brief another dozen people didn’t exactly sound appealing, or like a good idea at all. “Then I hope it doesn’t come to that. If you can talk him into doing this voluntarily… I mean, he would understand, right? That we need to make sure.”

Melody’s voice softened. “I’ll try my best. Tomorrow morning.”

“You can’t do it sooner–”

“You just said it’s not desperately urgent,” Melody said over him. “He needs rest. So do I.”

Fair enough. Randi took a deep breath. It _felt_ urgent, but it was always hard to sit with uncertainty, and sometimes you just had to wait. Another of Darvi’s lessons. “Tomorrow. You’ll tell us immediately about what you find.” He opened his eyes just in time to catch her curt, unsmiling nod. “Thank you, Melody. I appreciate it.” He glanced around again. “Is there anything else he said that we could check in the meantime?”

Another silence.

“I can’t think of anything,” Savil said finally. “Not without getting more details.”

“I’ll pass on anything I can get from him, tomorrow,” Melody offered. Her eyebrows quirked slightly, maybe in reaction to the surprise Randi hadn’t been entirely able to keep on his face. “I’m not trying to be unhelpful, here. But, something I should’ve said earlier – if you want me to deep-scan him, I’m going to need to take down the block I’ve been using with him. He might be considerably less functional as a result.”

“Why?” Randi said curiously.

Her shoulders rose and fell. “Because it’s not stable. It barely held up through the questioning earlier, and that was gentle. This wouldn’t be.” 

“Right.” Again, he pretty much had to take her at her word. Maybe if he’d paid better attention to his daughter’s eager rambling about her lessons at the supper-table, he would have some sort of idea what she was talking about. “Well, do your best.”

“Maybe there will be more in his notes,” Shavri suggested. “On the immortality question in particular. That could be useful.”

“Hmm.” Assuming the notes were real, and not just a product of Vanyel’s tortured imagination. Which was something they could find out quite quickly – in minutes, if he sent Savil to look now.

 _I expect them to be there._ He would be surprised if they weren’t. What did that mean?

It meant that deep down, some part of him was already starting to believe that every word Van had said was true.

The silence dragged out. Randi’s head was starting to feel gluey. He pressed his hands together. “That may be all we can accomplish right now. Savil, can you take charge of looking for these notes tonight?”

A brisk nod. “After I find someone to watch him overnight. Can’t ask Andy, he’s got a shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll let you sort that out. Dara, you go with her. Tran, I want you to look over the next few days and figure out what we need to reschedule.” He pushed his chair back. “That’s all. We’ll meet again tomorrow, once we know more. Shavri, come with me.”

* * *

The House of Healing was quiet. Gemma sat at the center station with her feet propped up on another stool, sipping herb-tea and reading a book. She ought to get up and make her rounds in a half-candlemark, and some trainee or other would be by to bother her any minute now, but for the moment she was very comfortable. No crises. No patients she was particularly worried about. _It can’t last, but I’ll enjoy it while I can._

Footsteps. Not one of the trainees, and not Alia or Rahel either. Gemma lifted her head, and felt a smile break across her face. “Oh! Heya, Melody. I thought you were off today.” She kicked her feet down from the stool and started to stand.

“Not exactly.” Melody stopped, leaning on the table, and reached out with a Mindtouch. _:I had Aber cancel all my appointments, and tomorrow as well. Something came up:_ Her Mindspeech was crisp, as always, but taking into account that this was Melody, the hints of exhaustion and stress might as well have been screaming.

 _:And here I was hoping you’d taken a holiday:_ Gemma held out her arms. _:It’s good to see you:_

Melody leaned into the embrace, and held it for a long time. _:Gemma, you have no idea how much I needed that:_

_:I can guess. You can’t talk about it?:_

_:No. Sorry:_ Melody finally pulled away, reluctantly, and glanced around. _:Are you busy? I wanted to borrow you:_

Gemma felt her eyebrows lifting. _:You know, when I want to test out experimental Healing-techniques, I use a mouse:_

 _:You can use mice. I can’t:_ Melody smoothed down her robes. _:Only if you’ve got time:_

 _:For you, always:_ She glanced around. _:I’ll just warn Alia, then let’s grab room four, no one’s in there:_

Five minutes later, they were both sitting down in the dimly candlelit room, Gemma on the edge of the unoccupied and stripped-down cot, Melody perched on a stool.

“Just like old times,” Gemma said out loud, smiling slightly. “Do tell. Did Jisa do something bizarre again?”

“Actually, no, but I think she’s rubbing off on me.” Melody’s hands darted up to her chin. “I put in a block blind, and…I would say I bungled it, but it works. Sort of. I understand it less than I’d prefer, and I’d like to play around with it a little in a safer environment.”

“So I’m your mouse.” Gemma frowned. “I suppose you can’t tell me _why_ you had to put in a block when you couldn’t See what you were doing?” She had a very good sense of just how much Melody would hate that. They had been friends for a long time – almost twenty-five years. _Oh, hells, now I feel old._ Nearly the same age, they had grown up in Kettlesmith together. A sharp eye might notice a certain similarity in their features, if not their colouring; they were probably something like third cousins. No way to be sure, since Melody didn’t know who her father had been. _And look at us both, in the big city. Our mothers would be so proud._

Far more people pointed out the resemblance between Melody and Andrel, which was much closer to a pure coincidence, he was from the same general region but that was all.

“I know, it’s not my style at all,” Melody said tersely. “Trust me, I wasn’t pleased about it. No better option.”

Gemma nodded, and tried to push down her curiosity. “Tell me what to expect?”

“Well, if I can replicate it at all, you’ll be able to center but not ground. Yes, I know, I’m just as confused. Other than that, you might feel numb, but that’s a guess. Ready?”

“When you are.” She closed her eyes, and lowered her shields.

It took less time than she expected – the last time Melody had ‘borrowed’ her to try to reproduce something Jisa had done by accident, she had been poking around for nearly half a candlemark, giving stranger and stranger prompts. This time, Gemma only felt the familiar touch of her Gift, like melting into a warm bath. _I remember when you were thirteen, you made me taste colours for a week before you figured out how to undo it._ The town priest had shrugged and said it was ‘probably Projective Empathy’, and they had gone years before anyone realized that Melody’s Gift was something much rarer and more precious – and dangerous.

 _:Think about something upsetting, as recent as possible:_ Melody sent. _:Sorry:_

She had to go back nearly three weeks. _The patient who was in room six, the pregnant girl–_

_:That’ll do:_

–And the world solidified again, but different. She wasn’t, quite, floating, she could feel her body normally enough and it still felt vaguely like hers, but – her feelings didn’t. Not quite numb, she could think about the poor girl in room six, and the sadness and frustration were there, but distant. Not especially interesting.

“Try to center and ground,” Melody prompted.

 _Center and–_ “Oh.” Words came to her slowly. “Can’t. Don’t like that.” She saw Melody’s worried look, and vaguely thought she ought to respond to it. “It’s fine. Just…strange.”

“Well, I can at least confirm it works on you too. You’re sure it’s tolerable?” Gemma nodded. “All right. Tell me a bit about your evening so far.”

She went haltingly through a recollection of all the patients currently in the House of Healing, in order by room number, only realizing halfway in that it was about the most boring thing she could have opened with.

“Good.” Melody cut her off. “Tell me about that patient in room six.”

That was harder. She could remember it, and she could say words about it, but it was hard to figure out which parts of it mattered, or would be interesting to Melody. She told a very disjointed version, losing track several times.

“Thank you,” Melody said. _:Can you use Mindspeech?:_

She tried. _:Is this working?:_ It felt wrong. She wasn’t sure if she was making contact with Melody’s shields at all, let alone linking.

_:What? Can you be louder?:_

_:IS THIS WORKING?:_

“Ow.” Melody made a face. “I think the answer to the Mindspeech question is ‘no’, and given that, I’m not about to ask you to try Healing. Interesting.” A pause. “Tell me a bit about how things are feeling. What’s it like to be in your body?”

Until hearing the question, it would never have occurred to her. “Normal?” She tried, with effort, to actually think about it. “Oh.” There were pins and needles in her thigh where she had crossed her legs and forgotten to uncross them, and an ache in her back. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Right. What’s it like to think? Do you feel foggy or slow?”

“Not foggy. Slow. Not interesting. Can’t tell…what’s important.”

“Hmm. And it seems like words are a little hard, but not impossible. If you do a quick review of the last day, are there any gaps in your memory?”

Melody asked her several more questions, and Gemma did her best to answer. Finally, her friend lowered her hands to her lap.

“I think I’ve figured out the properties. I’m going to take it off, and…hmm. Can you think about the patient in room six again?”

Gemma didn’t know why Melody cared about that, but she tried anyway.

–The corners of the room softened, then snapped back into place, and she found her eyes smarting. _I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done more._ And the anger, rising. _Why is the world this way?_

She felt Melody’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey. I’m here. It’s all right.”

 _It’s not all right._ But she lifted her head anyway, sniffed, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Sorry. Need a minute.” Set it aside. No point being angry. _It won’t bring her back._ Leave it all in the past, where it belonged.

“I’m sorry about that,” Melody said. “What was that like for you?”

“It just hit me all of a sudden.” Like something built up behind a dam, and she hadn’t even noticed the pressure until it was released. She still felt shaken. “Before that… Well, in hindsight that block was very disconcerting. I didn’t care much at the time. It’s not that I didn’t _have_ feelings, but they weren’t very loud and there was some kind of barrier.”

Melody nodded. “Which explains the difficulty thinking, maybe – emotions are how our minds tell us what to pay attention to. Still, I think this might be useful. I mean more generally, not just the specific case. One silver lining.”

Gemma hadn’t meant to pry – when Melody couldn’t tell her things, there was generally a good reason – but she was still off-balance, and when the connection flashed into her head, she blurted it out without thinking. “It’s Vanyel, isn’t it?”

Melody gave her a hard look. _:Please be quiet. Why do you think that?:_

_:Well, if he’s anything near as infuriating a patient for you as he is for me, he seems the most likely candidate:_

_:He’s not infuriating:_ Melody made a face at her. _:I really can’t talk about it, Gemma:_ She stood, abruptly. “Thank you for your help. I’m going to bed.”

* * *

“There,” Savil said, wearily but with satisfaction. She had been kneeling on the floor, perfectly still, for almost ten minutes, one hand against the wooden chest which Dara had retrieved from under Herald Vanyel’s bed. “Well? Go on now. It’s safe to open.”

“Are you sure?” Dara said worriedly.

Savil gave her a look. “Girl, why do you think I’m still the First Herald-Mage in the Circle? I taught Van everything, well, most of what he knows.”

Dara hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d known, vaguely – she had read the files on every single active Herald, spending more time on those she was likely to work with closely, and Savil had been marked down as Vanyel’s teacher. Though only for autumn of 789 through autumn of 790, just under a year total, which was odd; most Heralds trained for three to five years. She had assumed it was because Vanyel had been older when he was Chosen, just about the age she was now, and because he was so powerful.

 _:Chosen:_ Rolan had clearly been listening in on her surface thoughts. _:I think perhaps you need to know the full circumstances of Vanyel’s Choosing. It would help you to make sense of our current situation. There is a report in the classified Archives, which Randale can give you permission to read. I was not there, myself, but Healer Shavri and Herald Tantras witnessed some of it firsthand. You might ask them for the tale:_

Anything that would help this make more sense would be welcome, Dara thought. The meeting had been so incredibly confusing. She probably ought to be having feelings about it, but so far she was only numb.

 _:And Savil?:_ she guessed. _:I’m already talking to her:_

_:She was there, yes, but please do not ask her about it tonight. It…is not something she likes to remember:_

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Savil muttered, reaching to flip the latches. “There, see?”

Dara pulled back from the link with Rolan, and leaned forward. The chest was three-quarters full of papers, some organized in neat stacks, others rolled up and tied in scrolls, yet more loose and scattered. “Wow,” she breathed. It had been hard to believe, that Herald Vanyel would have kept notes on hundreds of Foresight dreams, but this certainly looked like enough paper.

Savil didn’t seem very surprised, though it was hard to tell, her face was like a stone wall. Herald Tantras had been so skeptical that the conversations were even real. Dara hadn’t known what to think.

“Well, then. Let’s get started.” Savil stifled a yawn behind her hand, and reached into the chest. “Help me out here. No idea if this is in any kind of order, but hopefully…oh, good. This one’s got a date on it. And it doesn’t look like they’re in cipher. Shorthand, but no worse than Keiran’s messages.”

Dara took her own handful of papers, and held one up close, squinting in the candlelight. “This one’s from ninety-nine.” It was crumpled, stained on one corner, and generally looked like it might have ridden around at the bottom of someone’s saddlebags for months, which made sense – that date would have fallen right in the middle of the Karsite war. The Valdemaran script was shaky and wandered a little across the page, as though written by someone very tired in poor lighting, but it was recognizably Vanyel’s hand.

“What’s this?” Savil set aside a pile. “Oh. Hmm. These look ancient. And they _are_ in cipher.”

Dara glanced over. Savil had a small book in her hand. Bound in cracking leather, and she could almost smell the age on it.

Savil set the book down. “We’ll look at it tomorrow. Here – it looks like this pile is at least date-ordered. Let’s split these up and at least make a start. Figure out if we can make any sense of them, and take notes on any sort of claim that we could verify.” She levered herself up on her haunches with an audible groan. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m taking the bed.”

Herald Vanyel didn’t have a lot of furniture. There was a padded wicker chair beside the bed, and another chair in front of his desk in the sitting-room, and two stools pushed under the tiny table against the opposite wall. His desk had a stack of books and some papers spread out on it, what looked like a marked-up draft copy of the treaty for the Lake Evendim annexation, and Dara felt weird about moving them. She was uncomfortable being in his rooms at all, but Savil didn’t seem to think anything of it. Maybe it wasn’t weird for her, since they were family. Dara was the one who was out of place.

Dara took the wicker chair, curling her legs under her, and dragged the bedside table closer to use it as a desk.

Autumn 799. _Discussed tactics, abstract. Stony Tor (Demonsbane). Ethics of border-crossing. Ask forgiveness not permission. Concept of borders in general. Our peasants & Hardorn’s no different. Division of responsibility, advantages of local knowledge. Kingdoms/states stable structure of government? (seem common) Formal duties vs moral obligations? _

It felt like reading someone else’s class-notes, from a clever but lazy student; she could sort of guess at what the lecture had covered, but it was clearly a very personal memory-trigger, never intended to be clear to others.

Six years ago, long before she was Chosen, when she was just an ordinary girl growing up in an obscure town no one had heard of, Herald Vanyel had been somewhere on the southern border, probably alone in a tent, dreaming of a mountain-pass and an army. Speaking to the man who would invade their Kingdom in the future, of tactics and ethics and structures of government.

Maybe. Unless it had been an elaborate hallucination the entire time, or some kind of trick or hoax – but that seemed even weirder and less believable.

_I don’t know what to think._

Dara set that paper aside and turned to the next one.

Some number of minutes later, she heard a breathy snore, and dared to look over. Savil was lying on her side, head pillowed on one arm, her other hand gone loose around a bundle of pages. Asleep, she looked, not older exactly, if anything younger – of the few lines on her face, some were relaxed away – but smaller, and frailer.

 _Should I wake her?_ If Dara had felt awkward about being in here at all, it was ten times worse sitting here watching Savil sleep. It had been a long day, she reminded herself, and Savil would have been up most of the night before. Besides. _I’m not sure I’m brave enough._ Savil was a mage. She hadn’t been in action since Sunhame, and she _probably_ wouldn’t throw a levinbolt at the person foolhardy enough to shake her awake…but rude words from her felt almost as frightening.

Cautiously, Dara slipped out of the chair and stood. She managed to extricate Savil’s half of the papers without waking her, then took the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed and draped it over the sleeping Herald-Mage.

Then she carried all of the notes over to the other room, and set them down on the floor. She blew out the candle on the bedside table, and closed the bedroom door.

It had been a long day for her as well, but she wasn’t sleepy at all. It wasn’t right to say she was excited, it was grimmer than that, but she wasn’t exactly frightened either. Probably she would be, later. It was too fresh; none of it quite felt real yet.

 _I want to be useful._ If Randi was going to extend this much trust to her, she intend to live up to it.

* * *

Medren watched with some bemusement as the young girl grinned and hugged Stef goodbye. Uncle Van talked about Jisa frequently, but Medren had never formally met her, or thought to anytime soon. _Of course Stef bumps into her just wandering about and now they’re best friends._

“Sure you’re all right going back by yourself?” Stef said, solicitous. “It’s dark out. One of us can walk with you.”

Jisa’s smile dimmed. “I’m not a baby _._ I can walk in the dark.” She folded her arms. “I have weapons lessons at the salle. And I have Gifts. If someone tries to hurt me I can make them be _scared_.”

Maybe it was no wonder Jisa and Stef apparently got on together like a house on fire. _I hope I don’t mean that literally._

He had seen Jisa at a distance before, with her parents, but never up close. She reminded him of…who? Something in the line of her jaw, her stubborn mouth, the high curve of her brow… Oh. She looked a bit like his half-sister. Well, Ariel was only a year or two older, and littles often looked alike at that age, still unformed. Jisa’s colouring was very different – not as dark as her mother, but her mud-brown hair, hanging in loose curls that didn’t quite form ringlets, almost matched her eyes. She had somehow gotten a smear of dirt on her forehead. He couldn’t think how, when everything outside was covered in snow.

He doubted anyone would call her pretty, but she would be strikingly handsome in a few more years, and the intelligence in that small face was formidable.

Jisa pulled her skirt up, exposing knobby knees, and stuffed her feet back into her boots. “Visit me!” she said. “Both of you!”

Medren felt his lips tugging up in a smile. _Never heard anyone be that bossy and still charming in the same breath._ Maybe it was easier for a tiny eleven-year-old girl to get away with it. Before, he had wondered if someone like Jisa would be spoiled. He still wasn’t sure if she was or not, but she wasn’t a brat. Just a whirlwind.

“I’d better get back. I already missed supper, Beri might worry. Bye!” And she was gone in a flash.

Stef shut the door, and then flung himself onto his bed, all four limbs splayed out like a star. “Whew! I like her. Although she tried to convince me I shouldn’t eat sausages because pigs have _feelings_. Don’t know what I think of that.”

“What?” Medren sat down on his own bed. “Come on. Now that you’ve wasted most of your afternoon, we need to get our homework done.”

“I did my homework,” Stef said, a little sulkily. “I took her to the library first and she got distracted by a book and forgot about me for a candlemark.”

Medren, despite himself, laughed. “Oh, you poor thing. Neglected in favour of storybooks.”

“Not storybooks. She found one of those serious military history tomes Breda makes us write essays on.”

Definitely a clever child. Though possibly her mother wouldn’t approve of that sort of reading, based on what Medren had heard.

Stef, after a moment, rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hands. “Medren?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen Herald Vanyel lately?”

“A couple weeks ago–” Medren stopped. He recognized that tone in Stef’s voice, and felt his eyes narrowing. “Stef. What are you trying to snoop on this time?”

“Nothing special. Just wondered.” Stef’s voice was light, utterly casual. It might have fooled someone else, who didn’t know him quite so well.

Medren sighed. “Stef, whatever it is, can you leave it alone? Uncle Van likes his privacy. Don’t be disrespectful of that.” Not that nagging Stef about it was likely to do much good.

* * *

_Thank the gods that’s over._

They were, finally, back in their own quarters – well, Randi’s quarters, but Shavri slept here most nights, drifting over after she put Jisa to bed in their room back at Healers’. Randi sat on the side of their bed, holding his head in his hands.

Shavri stood, uncertain. Surely there were things to do, but she wasn’t sure what; her mind spun, failing to find purchase. _Oh, gods, Van…_ There was a heavy, sick feeling in her chest and an acrid taste in her mouth.

One thing at a time. Randi first.

He was hurting, which wasn’t surprising. Really, he ought to sleep, but no one could go right from the meeting they’d just had to peaceful slumber.

He needed to talk it through. And she needed – well, it didn’t matter right now, did it? Later. Get through the next candlemark first.

“Randi,” she said. “I’ll get you some of the night-painkillers.”

“No. I need my head clear.”

“I know they make you foggy, but the pain’s distracting you as well.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, pushing through a wisp of Healing-energy. Feeling the strain of it. _I’m so damned tired._ In spite of it, there was an itchy feeling between her shoulder blades. Waiting was all they could do, right now, and yet she didn’t want to be still.

“Fine.” He let his head fall against her arm, brown eyes looking up at her. “Just not too much.”

She caressed his his hair – carefully, she didn’t want any of it coming out in chunks. It was thin and dry against her fingers. “I’ll be right back.” She bent to kiss his forehead, then pulled away.

By the time she returned, he had given in to the inevitable and lain back against the pillows. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t open them when she pressed the cup into his hands. She shrugged off her outer robes onto the floor, and joined him, pulling the blanket over both of them. Gods, the warmth felt good.

 _Need to be careful or I’ll fall asleep here._ Which she couldn’t afford. Too much left to do tonight.

 _:What’s on your mind?:_ she sent. _:Talk to me:_ Exhausted as they both were, Mindspeech was still easy between them if they were touching. Easier than speaking out loud; her throat kept threatening to choke her words.

He set down the empty cup and rolled towards her, and she wrapped her arms around his back and held him. Carefully. Something fragile and precious. _Mine._

 _:Don’t know where to start:_ he sent.

 _:Start with what you’re feeling:_ she sent. He needed to get that off his chest, first, before he could think about strategy.

 _:Scared:_ A pause. _:Angry. Confused:_

About what she was feeling, then, though in a different order – she would have put ‘confused’ first and ‘angry’ last – and she wasn’t sure her anger was aimed at the same target. _:Go on. What’s frightening?:_

_:Well. Either our mage lurking up north with an army is immortal and wants to sacrifice ten million people. Or the strongest Herald-Mage in our kingdom and my top advisor is insane:_

Shavri rested her chin on the crown of his head, gently rubbing his shoulder. _:Or Van is sane and Leareth is real but lying:_ she reminded him.

A sigh. _:I know. It’s not just either-or, there are more than two options here. Just…doesn’t that feel less likely to you?:_

Shavri hadn’t really thought about it yet. She found herself playing it out in her mind the way Van had taught her to do on paper, once – drawing a sort of branching tree, dividing up the page into boxes. It helped to focus on the abstract. No reason to have feelings about it, yet, when she didn’t yet know which of those worlds they were in.

If only the coiling tightness in her gut would believe that…

 _:Oh!:_ How hadn’t she noticed before? _:Randi, we’ve known about the Foresight dreams for eight years. Savil’s known for sixteen. We’ve looked for confirmation. That Leareth exists, I mean:_

A pause. _:Have we? Shavri, I wonder…:_ For a moment, there was only his quiet breathing, and she could feel his thoughts almost next to hers, slowed by the drugs but still with that careful precision she loved – following her lead, taking a step back, considering possibilities. _:How strong is our evidence, really? We’ve heard rumours of a Master Dark in the north, and Vanyel – only Vanyel – claims to have used Farsight to find the pass. That’s not a lot of proof:_

She felt her fingers stiffen against his spine. _:Van wouldn’t lie about that:_

_:No, but he could be mistaken. It’s the first time anyone has ever tried to use Farsight to See a place from a dream-vision. Would you have expected that to work, before hearing about it? I mean, just, what if he was hoping so hard it would work, his mind created it?:_

That was possible, Shavri thought. Another box on the mental diagram… But not a large one, surely. _:Wouldn’t you expect Yfandes to have noticed if he was confabulating?:_

Silence. _:Whatever else this tells us:_ Randi sent, finally, _:we know that Companions aren’t infallible:_

 _Ouch._ That was a point. Not one she particularly wanted to think about.

Frustration surged in Randi’s mindvoice. _:Shavri, all the options here are bad!:_ His breath gusted out. _:I mean, if it turns out Leareth never existed, I suppose that’s a relief, even if it would mean my best mage has been out of touch with reality for a very long time:_

 _:But you don’t think it’s very likely:_ Neither did she.

 _:No. I guess I don’t:_ For a moment, he just lay in her arms, his chest rising and falling against hers. _:I don’t know what to think, Shavri. It fit together, before. Nothing makes sense anymore!:_

A child’s helpless incomprehension in his mindvoice, and it made her chest ache, because he was right. No, none of it held together, not yet. Every option left her with slippery confusion.

 _Vanyel’s insane._ But Melody didn’t think so. Shavri had never seen any hint of it earlier – Vanyel hadn’t had an easy time, exactly, but she wanted to say he was _more_ grounded in reality than most people, not less. Yfandes wouldn’t leave her Chosen if he was ill, surely, and so that still needed an explanation.

 _The dreams were never true Foresight._ In which case, why had Yfandes believed they were? And Taver? Unless Vanyel was lying about that – but the world where he would lie was almost more frightening, and it was hard to believe. Why?

 _Vanyel was tricked._ Plausible, but it was hardly reassuring. Van was no fool. Of course he could be misled, but anyone clever enough to mislead him that deeply would be a terrifying enough threat, immortal or not. The version where Leareth was ‘only’ a bloodpath warlord mage…didn’t feel like much of a relief.

…Oh. _Oh, no._

She didn’t know how she could possibly have missed it. _:Randi:_ she sent, urgently, her heart suddenly in her mouth. _:I just had a very unpleasant thought:_ Take a deep breath, and force out the words even as they tried to slip away from her. _:We thought maybe this Master Dark – Leareth – lied convincingly enough that Vanyel believed him. What if it’s not that? What if he used magic to force it?:_

Randi stiffened in her arms. _:You mean a compulsion:_

It was almost a simpler explanation, she thought. And it might explain why Yfandes had left, if she realized her Chosen was controlled. Corrupted. It didn’t explain why she hadn’t told Rolan, or why she hadn’t realized sooner…

 _:I don’t know if that’s possible:_ Randi sent. _:If they never met face to face:_

 _:We don’t know that for sure:_ Leareth would have had fifteen years to travel into Valdemar in disguise, or send a spy in his place. _:And maybe he can do it from the dream alone. He could know things about magic that we don’t:_

Silence.

 _:How could we check?:_ Randi sent, almost plaintively.

 _:I can ask Melody:_ Shavri wasn’t sure that was the kind of thing that Mindhealing Sight could See, but it seemed like it ought to be.

 _:Hmm. Do that, then:_ Randi groaned. _:Damn it. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m an idiot:_ A sigh. _:I hate this, Shavri:_

She ran her hand up and down his spine. _:Nothing right now, love. Rest. This will keep until the morning:_ And despite the weighted ache in her chest, she would try her best not to dwell on the implications until then.

 _:I know, just…:_ He trailed off, just holding the mindlink between them. Impatience, restlessness, weighted down by fatigue. _:I hate not knowing:_ he sent finally.

She squeezed him closer, as tightly as she dared. _:I know. Me too:_

Off in the distance, there was a knock on the door.

“Hellfires,” Randi mumbled out loud.

“I’ll see who it is.” Shavri, with a mix of reluctance and relief, disentangled herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for a robe. “You just stay here and relax.” The painkillers were kicking in; despite the tension still coiled in him, he would fall asleep if she gave him half a chance, and he needed it.

Standing, she was dizzy for a moment, and put a hand on the wall until her head steadied. She closed Randi’s bedroom door firmly behind her, and padded to the main door. “I’m sorry, Randi isn’t–” She bit off the phrase. “Beri?” A pause, as her eyes tracked downward. “Jisa.”

Her daughter’s governess was scowling, a rare expression on her weathered brown face, and had both hands on Jisa’s shoulders. Jisa looked somewhere between sulky and contrite. “Wasn’t sure you’d be coming home tonight, so I came by,” Beri said, gruffly. “Tried to send a message earlier, they said you weren’t to be interrupted.”

“Oh.” She glanced behind her, then took a step forward and pulled the door mostly-closed behind her. “I don’t want to disturb Randi,” she explained. “Beri, what is it?”

“I don’t know that–” Beri glanced around at the empty hallway. “Well, fine. You need to have a talk with your daughter. Jisa told me she had a lesson with Melody – which was a lie, I checked and Melody was on leave today – and she didn’t come back until a half-candlemark ago! I’ve been worried sick all day!”

Shavri only nodded, letting Beri’s glower wash over her, but Jisa quailed and seemed to curl into herself.

What was she supposed to say? “Beri, thank you for trying to reach me. I’m sorry you weren’t able to.” And she would have to talk to whichever clerk or page had decided she ‘wasn’t to be interrupted’, because – well, it would have been a distraction, and she would have been very irritated at the time, but how could she ignore her own daughter?

“Jisa,” she went on, flatly. “What were you thinking? This is completely unacceptable! Your father and I are having a very stressful day, and I cannot believe you would thoughtlessly make that worse! I thought I raised you better than this.”

Jisa’s chin went to her chest, turtle-like.

“Jisa,” Shavri said. “Apologize to Beri.”

An incomprehensible whisper.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

Jisa lifted her head, eyes brimming over with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice was small and choked, and Shavri felt a pang in her chest. _Was I too harsh?_ Maybe. It would be so easy to take out her helpless frustration on an easier target – but Jisa did need to learn a lesson, here. Was this sneaking-off a new thing? Shavri wasn’t actually sure. _I’m not spending enough time with her._ Another thing to be pointlessly angry about, the pressures forcing her to neglect her own daughter. Jisa didn’t lack for attention and care, she was the pet of the whole Palace, but still. _She needs her mama._ And Shavri needed her, longed to curl up on her sofa with her daughter and read a book together, but what she needed didn’t matter right now.

“I’m sorry as well,” she said. “Jisa…” What was she even supposed to say? In a public hallway, no less, but she really didn’t want to take this back into the suite and distract Randi with it, and she wanted to walk all the way back to her quarters even less. All she could do was find the words that would make this a little better rather than worse. “Listen, I know things are difficult right now. I haven’t been around as much as usual, and Melody had to cancel your lesson as well. I know that must have been frustrating.” She reached in, rested her own hands on Jisa’s shoulders. “Look at me. I’ll try to do better, all right? I can promise I will have breakfast with you tomorrow, and I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to apologize for this morning. Just, try to understand that your father and I are dealing with a lot of stress, and please don’t make this any harder for us.”

She held Jisa’s gaze until, finally, her daughter nodded.

And then reached out with a Mindtouch. _:Mama, what’s wrong? Why won’t you tell me anything?:_

Oh. No. What was she even supposed to say. _:Jisa, I’m sorry. I can’t. Kingdom business:_

_:But it’s about Uncle Van, isn’t it?:_

Damn it, this was the problem having a child who was a Mindspeaker and Empath. She couldn’t lie in Mindspeech, but Jisa would know what it meant if she switched to out-loud. _:I can’t tell you:_ she sent.

 _:I’m not a baby. I wish you trusted me:_ And then Jisa broke the connection, and blocked her.

Looking at it for a moment from her daughter’s perspective, it was understandable, but it still stung.

“I’m sorry,” she said out loud again. “I love you, Jisa. Come here a minute?”

Jisa hesitated for a long time, her mouth set in a stubborn line, but finally her shoulders came down from her ears, and she stepped into Shavri’s arms.

 _I love you so much._ She breathed in the smell of her daughter’s hair, felt the wings of her shoulder blades through her gown, and she clung to the moment as long as she could. _I don’t ever want to let you go._

But, eventually, she did. “Jisa, you go to bed, all right? Behave yourself and be good to Beri for me.”


	5. Chapter Five

Vanyel woke, and this time, he remembered. _‘Fandes._ Her name was a desperate plea, a whisper on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t reach out for her. Steer away from the icy barrier where she should have been, and…then what?

He could fill in enough of the generalities. He was still in Savil’s suite. Sometime before now it had been daylight, and afterwards dark – he could recall waking before in the night, the fog of drugs letting him slip away into the blackness again. Now, faint light turned his closed eyelids to warm red-brown.

The next day, then.

He couldn’t, quite, remember going to bed again, but what had come before… _Oh._ In the sitting-room, Savil’s eyes on him. She had asked, and he had told her everything.

Fear, rising behind the pane of glass, a curdling weight in a stomach that didn’t seem to belong to him. _What are they going to do?_ Still, alongside the distant panic, there was relief as well. The other shoe had finally dropped.

 _We’re going to try to make this right. Whatever that means. Together._ The first hint of softness in Savil’s eyes, the way her voice had cracked. _I promised, right? That you wouldn’t have to do this alone._ Unexpectedly, he felt tears springing to his eyes. The obscure feeling-that-wasn’t-pain was far away, and so was the lump in his throat, somewhere behind the wall that was Melody’s block.

He was starting to hate the presence of that block – or, not quite hate, that was a stronger emotion than he could muster. This was duller and flatter. Ungrounded, unmoored, it felt impossible to decide anything, or to make sense of a suddenly nonsensical world. It kept the pain at bay, and yet. Something was still screaming behind that barrier, desperate loneliness and terror and grief, and it wasn’t entirely reassuring, that it didn’t feel like that voice belonged to him _._

Even numb as he was, he could still feel something like trepidation, at what would happen if Melody took the block off, but she had to do it sooner or later, surely.

Sooner or later. That was the future, and he wasn’t sure he could face it, but it would happen to him in any case. And he had just been lying here, letting it.

 _Fight it._ It might be a struggle, but he could still think at all, and he ought to try. Logic would still work.

It had been…hard to keep track of time, but at least a day had passed here in Savil’s room. Two days since Yfandes had left, then. Waiting passively for her to make up her mind and come back, or not, seemed like less and less of an actual plan – no, it had never been a plan at all, he had been putting off the planning, knowing he was too impaired to trust himself, believing that a future version of Vanyel would be better placed to make any decisions. He couldn’t do that forever.

Start simple. The block made it hard to tell, but he thought he was thirsty, and he needed to use the privy again. Probably someone was watching him; usually, he would have been able to tell immediately if anyone else was nearby, but not with his shields locked up so tight.

He opened his eyes.

The curtains were closed, but not the shutters, and by the angle of the light filtering through the cloth, he guessed it was early morning, maybe a half-candlemark after dawn. Lissa – right, he remembered her from the night, comforting him when he woke gasping from a vague and formless nightmare – was still there. She had dragged Savil’s big overstuffed chair into the bedroom and propped her feet on the foot of the bed, and she was snoring, head flung back, clearly fast asleep.

Cautiously, he sat up. The blankets rustled a little, but Lissa didn’t stir. She always had been a deep sleeper – she might have learned otherwise during her years in the field, but she had been in Haven for two years now, unlearning those habits.

_I could leave._

Everyone had been keeping such a careful eye on him since that night; there was no moment before now when he could have slipped away. He could get up right now, take Lissa’s cloak from where it hung beside the door, the hood would hide his face. With his shields fully up, once he was outside, even Savil wouldn’t have an easy time tracking him down. Melody had stumbled onto him, before, but half by accident, and only because he hadn’t even thought to hide.

He could go, and then…what? Look for Yfandes? Strike on his own? _I wouldn’t last a day._

He could go back to the tower. Or the river, or somewhere even closer and easier. The biggest single reason it had seemed worth staying alive, before, was that otherwise Randi would never find out the truth about Leareth. That was moot, now.

It was tempting. And yet. His worst fear, that Savil would shut him out, hadn’t materialized. She had to be angry, and confused, and terrified – but if she wanted to find a way to move forward, could he take that away from her? And he might have told them the basics, but there was a lot more he still knew that no one else did.

Besides. In the light of day, after a full night’s sleep, and with Melody’s block keeping the worst of the pain at bay – before, just existing had been intolerable, but he could handle this for a while longer. It seemed like there was still a chance Yfandes would come back to him. He ought to give her the benefit of the doubt.

No. Sneaking out wouldn’t solve anything. _They’re trying to help. I should let them._

It must have taken him nearly five minutes to come to that conclusion, dragging his thoughts against the resistance of the block, and Lissa was still snoring. He cleared his throat. “Liss?”

She groaned, mumbled something, and yawned – and then her eyes flew open, and she leapt forward in the chair. “Van! Oh. I am so sorry. I can’t believe I…” She rubbed her eyes. “Do you need anything?”

As usual, he thought he knew what he wanted to say, but the words tangled on the way out. “Chamber pot,” he managed.

“Right. Um, I can duck out a minute. Once you’re up. I don’t want you to fall.”

Her concern was embarrassing, but he remembered how lightheaded and unsteady he had been the day before. It wasn’t so bad, now, thanks to a few meals and another night’s rest, and he was able to stand without difficulty. At least he was already wearing a robe, and hadn’t woken up naked this time.

Like Melody had, Lissa left the door ajar and was clearly hovering just outside. “Done?” she called, after a moment. “I’m putting on water for tea.”

“Can help.” He pushed his way to the door. Heating water was something he usually did with magic, but he had forgotten the fact that he couldn’t ground properly. When he tried to reach out with his power, he felt deeply out of control. “Sorry. Can’t.” He sagged against the doorframe. “Shouldn’t.” He noticed, vaguely, that his hands were trembling. He wasn’t sure why.

“Don’t worry about it.” Lissa, forcibly cheerful, came over and gave him a one-armed hug. “Are you feeling better today?”

He couldn’t think of any answer to that, so he said nothing. Her smile dimmed, and she bustled over to the hearth. “Come on, sit down. I’ll call for some breakfast.”

Vanyel sat, letting himself be carried along. After Lissa had rung for a page, and spoken to the girl who answered – she opened the door barely a crack and slipped out to talk to the child in the hallway, which Vanyel appreciated – she came to sit next to him, slipping an arm around his shoulders, and he endured her determined attempts at small talk. In the end, she gave up asking him any questions and just chattered about various things – her work, sparring, a man she was currently seeing. He knew she was trying to help. And to keep herself awake, probably. There were dark circles under her eyes and she kept clamping down on yawns.

They were eating, or at least Vanyel was trying to, when there was another knock on the door. “Lissa? It’s me.” The voice belonged to Melody.

Vanyel set down his spoon. The oat porridge with cream in it was probably very nourishing, but he wasn’t hungry at all. He took a sip of tea. With the block, he couldn’t tell if the distant, hot weight in his stomach was anxiety or nausea.

Lissa rose and unlocked the door, moving more clumsily than usual; she almost knocked over her chair in the process. Melody nodded to him, nothing out of the ordinary in her expression. “Vanyel. I’m glad you’re up. Sorry to interrupt, I should let you finish eating.”

He looked down at his plate. “I’m done.”

“If you’re sure.” As usual, Melody’s voice was calm, mild, with no hint of judgement. “Lissa, Vanyel and I need to talk privately, if that’s all right. You should go get some sleep.”

“Of course.” Lissa yawned and stretched. “Van, take care.”

He submitted himself to her kissing his forehead, and watched blankly as the door closed behind her. Melody slid the bolt into place again.

“So,” she said. “I have some things I need to discuss with you, but first I thought I’d ask if you wanted to talk about anything in particular?” She glanced back, hands darting like small birds. “Do you want to sit somewhere more comfortable?”

Comfort wasn’t something he had been thinking about much, but the remains of breakfast were distracting him. Vanyel pushed the chair back and stood, making his way to the sofa with his tea. Melody refilled the kettle from Savil’s water-urn, set it over the hearth, and then joined him, watching expectantly.

 _Center and–_ Again the stumble. He tried to gather his thoughts, struggling against the numbness. “The block,” he started. “Know it’s helping. But…can’t think.” Or speak in full sentences, apparently. “Can’t _do_ anything. Don’t like it.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “Can’t leave it forever. Right?”

“Right.” Melody nodded, and he thought she seemed pleased. It was hard to tell. “It’s been more than a day, which is a long time to leave a temporary block in place, especially one where I’ve never tested the long-term effects. I think it was necessary, first just to give you a break so you could get some sleep, and second so that you were able to speak to us yesterday. I’d rather not leave it any longer than another day, but…well, however irritating the block is, you’re going to feel a lot worse without it, at least in the short run. Are you ready for that?”

He started to nod, and then stopped to actually think. Did he want to put it off another day? She was right; it was going to _hurt_. He would probably regret it, at least in moments.

And, of course, there was the chance that Yfandes would come back before tomorrow. But sitting around just waiting and hoping wasn’t what he wanted to do.

“No,” he said out loud, “but…want to. You’ll be here?”

“Of course.” Her eyes softened. “I’ll be here as much as you need, today and after. I promise. If you feel up for it now, I think that’s better than waiting.” She paused. “Which brings up the second thing I had to discuss. As I’m sure you can guess, Savil briefed Randi and a few others on what you told her, yesterday.”

On the other side of a barrier, the cold, curdled pressure in his gut surged again; he couldn’t tell if it was fear, anger, or something else. A long way off, he could hear his own heartbeat, hammering in his ears. There was that glassy feeling again – like he was something clear and brittle, and he didn’t know what another blow would do.

“Hey,” Melody said, laying her hand on his forearm. She wasn’t much of a Projective Empath, but he thought he could feel her pushing, soothing. “I know it’s scary. I won’t tell you everything about the meeting, now isn’t the time, but one thing that came up is relevant.” She paused for a long moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. “You have to understand,” she went on finally. “It’s a bizarre story you’ve brought us, and no one’s sure quite what to think. I happen to believe that you were telling us the truth, yesterday, and that the dreams happened like you said, but – Randi asked me to have a closer look at your mind, to confirm some things.”

“They think I’ve…lost my mind.” She was right; he couldn’t blame Randi for considering it.

“It’s a worry.” Her tone was crisp, giving nothing away. “Not the only one. It was brought up that if he is real, this Leareth is a very powerful, clever mage, and he could be influencing you. Magically, I mean. I know we don’t think he’s ever been within a hundred miles of you, but we couldn’t rule it out.”

Oh.

Vanyel looked down at his hands; they were trembling. A cry of refusal was rising inside him, but when he tried to speak, the words wouldn’t come.

“Randi wants me to do a full read of you,” Melody said. “With Thoughtsensing as well as my Mindhealing Gift. If I do that, looking for tampering as well as, er, instability, I’m quite certain I wouldn’t miss it. But you would need to take down your shields, completely. Vanyel, are you willing to do that for me?”

He closed his eyes. Remembered, vaguely, a conversation a very long time ago. Four years. I _am sorry about this, Vanyel, whatever it is. Secrets aren’t easy burdens to carry._ He had wanted to tell her, then. Yfandes had overruled him, and Melody hadn’t been willing to promise she wouldn’t tell Randi – but all of that was moot, now, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” he managed. “No more secrets. From you.”

“Thank you.” When he opened her eyes, she was as unruffled as ever, but he thought she was very relieved. “Anyway. Sooner started, sooner done, but I do want to make sure this won’t be any more of a nightmare for you than it needs to be. So let’s get ourselves set up.” A flicker of something in her eyes, that he couldn’t read. “One thing I want to make clear – Vanyel, if you try to harm yourself at any point, I _will_ stop you. I’ll use a set-command again if I must. We’ll have someone with you all the time, not necessarily me, although I promise I’ll come whenever you ask. Andrel might step in again. I think your sister is intending to sleep all day today and sit with you again overnight.”

Lissa. “She fell asleep,” he admitted. “I…thought about leaving. Decided not.”

“Lissa, you mean? Oh.” Melody’s nose wrinkled very slightly. “Thank you for telling me that. And thank you for not sneaking out on us, even if we accidentally gave you the opportunity. I’ll talk to her.”

Oops. He hadn’t meant to get his sister in trouble.

“I’m not angry with her,” Melody interjected quickly, even though he hadn’t said anything out loud – how could she so often guess what he was thinking? “It’s understandable. Sitting in the dark in a comfortable room all night isn’t the type of sentry duty she’s used to.”

Vanyel couldn’t think of an answer, so he said nothing.

Melody was still for a moment, and then her hand darted out and took his wrist; he could feel his own pulse where her fingertips rested, still racing. “How are you feeling right now?” she said after a moment. “Calm and not-calm at the same time, would be my guess.”

That was a good description of it.

She rubbed her hands together, briskly. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around what this block is doing, but I think it’s cutting off how much you identify with emotions you’re having much more than blocking them at the source. Physically, you have a lot of the signs of someone who’s very, very upset and stressed. Which is understandable, but I don’t want to throw you into that headfirst. Can you try a few minutes of a trance-exercise for me? If you can settle your body down, at least, before I take the block off, I think it’ll make the first few minutes a lot easier to bear.”

It made sense. Vanyel closed his eyes, and tried to focus on his breathing. Which, he realized, had been rapid and shallow, almost panting; he hadn’t even noticed. It was hard – not being able to ground was disrupting the familiar mental motion – but he forced his breath to come deep and steady.

“Better,” Melody said, a long time later. “Figure this is as relaxed as you’re going to get. Now – when I take the block off, I want you to center and ground, properly, and then stay focused on your breathing for a while. Whatever you’re feeling, try not to fight it or shut it out, but you don’t have to address it yet either. All right?” He felt her hand on his back. “Ready?”

Vanyel wished she would just make the decision. It would be easier – but she was clearly going to wait until he did. “Ready,” he mumbled.

–And the world rushed in, with an immediacy he had almost forgotten was possible.

 _Yfandes._ The icy wall where she should have been sucked at him; he couldn’t look at it, but he couldn’t look away either. He could only remember her, turning away, a white shape in the darkness–

“Center and ground.” Melody’s voice reached him, and he could feel her hands around his. He fumbled through the mental motion, clumsily. It did help, a little. There was a world, around him, the pressure of the sofa against his legs, the sunlight through his clenched eyelids, and none of those things were the wrongness that was Yfandes-not-being-there. He remembered to breathe. In, and out, and in again…

 _‘Lendel._ An echoing void, barely patched over before, and Yfandes had been so much of that scaffolding. There were other things he could cling to, but not enough. Never enough.

“Breathe,” Melody reminded, and he tried.

Leareth, facing him across an icy slope, snow blowing through his hair. _I have overcome every obstacle I have faced so far, and I will not let anyone deter me, not even a Herald of Valdemar I have come to greatly respect._ His gut roiled, fear and sick horror mixing with the desperate uncertainty.

Less uncertainty than before. _Savil knows,_ he reminded himself. _Randi knows._ Even if they weren’t sure they believed it, yet. He wasn’t alone in this. Not anymore.

But Yfandes was gone, still, and that was too much, Savil couldn’t fill that void. _I can’t I can’t do it no no nonono–_

“Breathe,” Melody prodded again, and he fought to force air past the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat. He must have bitten his lip; the pain was a muted accent, but he could taste the blood and somehow that anchored him. He curled up, digging his nails into his palms, and Melody was there, her arm around him like a warm blanket. Comforting at first, but suddenly it was suffocating, and he shoved her away. 

There was no space for words, no space for thought, but he could carve out just enough of a corner in the hurricane to be grateful that she was there.

* * *

“That’s everyone for now?” Tran glanced around, frowning. “Dara, door.”

The trainee jumped up, leaving her notes on the table.

Savil settled back in the chair with a groan. _This is the last place I want to be._ They were in the office of the King’s Own, which felt crowded with her, Tantras, Shavri, and Dara all there. Randi was still in bed, he was having one of his worse days – unsurprising, any kind of strain took a toll on him – and Melody was with Vanyel. She had passed on to Shavri, earlier, that Vanyel had agreed to take down his shields for her, and she would be taking the morning to deep-scan him. Verifying not just his sanity, but Shavri’s other terrifying idea, the one Savil was trying not to think about.

The angle of sunlight glancing from the snowbanks outside was still low; it was about a candlemark after dawn. Savil had been rather embarrassed to wake up, not only in Vanyel’s bed, but to Andrel crawling in with her – and she had snuggled him for several half-asleep minutes before she realized. _Dara told me where you were_ , he had explained, and then pointed out the pot of tea and covered breakfast tray he had brought for her. The thoughtful gesture had kept her warm inside for candlemarks.

“Let’s keep this quick,” Tran said. “We’ll know more this afternoon, once Melody is done with him, but for now – Dara, Savil?”

Dara slipped back into her chair, fidgeting. “I went through all of his notes last night,” she said, staring hard at the tabletop. “They were exactly where he told Savil. A lot of it is confusing, it’s in shorthand, but I made a summary.”

“Please go ahead.”

Dara’s eyes drifted ceiling-ward. “They cover the date range he told Savil. Starting in seven ninety-one, until a few weeks ago. Nothing on the most recent conversation he told Savil about, but maybe he was too distracted to write it down.” She shifted her weight in the chair, throat bobbing as she swallowed. “I think the most important part is from early on. When Leareth claimed to be immortal, and Vanyel asked him to prove it. There were a few things. Leareth claimed he had met Taver and Taver would remember the last conversation they had. There was something else, a statue that had numbers… I don’t really get it, but Rolan says he does, and we can check. He taught Vanyel a forgotten spell – that’s his communication-spell – and he told Vanyel about a sealed cave that had records and artifacts it in.”

Silence.

“Hardly proof.” Tran’s voice was tight. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his posture was stiff; he looked as tired as Savil felt. “All of those could be faked.”

The trainee twisted her hands together in her lap. “I know. Vanyel wasn’t convinced right away, either. He thought maybe there was a cult Leareth was part of, at first. But then later in his notes he said a group that well-organized didn’t seem any more likely.” A pause. “Oh! There was something else later. Something about the Order of Astera, and a system for exchanging messages in code.”

It hit her like a blow to the chest. _That’s why those books in cipher looked so familiar._ Savil had half-forgotten that entire investigation – but there had been unanswered questions, there. They had known the message-system was centuries old.

Damn it, she should have made the connection on her own, the night before. _You’re getting slow, old woman._

 _:Kellan:_ she sent. _:Remind me to schedule a meeting with the high prelate in Haven:_

 _:Of course, Chosen:_ Her Companion had been listening in the back of her mind, sending quiet reassurance along their bond, but she could feel the tension in him as well.

“Still not proof.” Tran’s voice was stony.

“I know.” Dara gripped the edge of the desk. “It seems like it wasn’t any one thing he found convincing by itself, it was how all the things fit together. He said at one point in the notes that Leareth was so knowledgeable, it was hard to imagine anyone learning that much in just one lifetime. And he thought there was something Taver wasn’t saying, but he seemed to believe it.”

“Taver wasn’t infallible either.” Tran folded his arms. “Given what happened later, maybe we _should_ be questioning his judgement.”

 _Oof._ Savil winced, and tried to hide it.

“Rolan is being mysterious,” Dara said. “But he says it’s possible.” Her face went blank; Savil wondered if she was getting an earful from her Companion.

 _:Kellan?:_ Savil sent. _:What do you think?:_

_:I don’t think we know enough yet, Chosen:_

There was something else in his mindvoice, behind the odd reticence. _What aren’t you telling me_ , she thought and didn’t say.

“What else?” Tran said after a beat of silence. “I want to keep this short.”

Dara squared her shoulders. “If we believe his notes, Leareth gave him a lot of advice on policy. They talked about ethics and Seldasen. And about gods. Leareth had some sort of alliance with Vedric Mavelan – Vanyel guessed that he made the trap-spell that killed the Remoerdis royal family, and confronted him and Leareth admitted to it. He had several plots to assassinate Vanyel. One of them was an accident – I mean, Vanyel said Leareth said it was an accident that he didn’t cancel it once they started talking.”

Oh. “Father Leren?” Savil guessed.

Dara nodded without speaking.

And Van had forgiven him. It was hard to believe. Another note of confusion, piled onto all the others.

“Advice on policy. That’s worrying.” Tran leaned back in his chair. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but if Melody comes back and tells us the conversations really happened, we should do some hard thinking about all the advice Van has given Randi.”

 _Is that where your ideas came from, ke’chara?_ Why hadn’t she ever questioned it, before? She had been surprised and awed again and again by Vanyel’s insights, but she had never considered that they might not be his.

“The Web,” Savil breathed. “Dara, was there anything in the notes…”

Dara squirmed in her chair. “I found a few mentions. He did get some of the ideas from Leareth. On the alarm-settings, mostly. Leareth doesn’t know how to build Heartstones.”

Tran grimaced. “That could be a serious vulnerability. And this isn’t even mentioning all the state secrets he may have leaked.” A moment later, his fist slammed down on the desk. “Damn it! What was he _thinking_?”

 _I could ask the same question._ It hurt to think about – a wall of wordless, panicky refusal rising in her, that made it hard to focus on anything.

Shavri spoke for the first time. “That he wanted Valdemar to be stronger, probably. And that good advice was good advice, regardless of the source.” One fingertip tapped her chin. “I mean, the new education system was a very good idea.”

Tran scowled, but let it slide. “Moving on. There are some things we can make headway on before Melody comes back with her verdict. One. We need a plan to cover Web-alarms. Vanyel isn’t up for it, and even if he was, I’m not sure I want him involved with our security right now. Savil?”

 _Focus._ “I’ve been handling most of them,” she offered. “Kellan wants me to pass some of it off, though. Pull in Kilchas and Sandra.” They were the only options; Dakar wasn’t a strong enough mage, and all the other Herald-Mages were out on border circuits. Not that talking to them felt appealing at all, right now. _I want to hide under a rock._ “We need to figure out a solution for the routine work as well.” They wouldn’t be able to cover all of it – there were so many things Van could do in a quarter the time it took anyone else, even her, with his raw power and his other Gifts. “Um, and I need to think of someone else who can watch Vanyel, if you want me working on this.” Which shouldn’t have been a relief, but it was; the thought of being in the same room as him made her guts churn. She couldn’t keep pulling in Andy, though, he had other work to do, and Melody was surely going to want a break eventually. Lissa would offer, but she was probably going to be asleep all day…

“I’ll leave that with you,” Tran said, uninterested.

 _:Kellan?:_ she sent. _:Any ideas?:_ Shavri wouldn’t have time to spare either – and might not want to be around Vanyel either, right now.

_:How about your grand-nephew?:_

_:Medren?:_ She felt herself frowning. _:He’s so young. And he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on:_

 _:Neither do Andy or Lissa:_ Kellan pointed out. _:He’s sixteen, the same age as Dara – hardly a little boy. And he’s a sensible lad. Level-headed:_

He would be happy to help, there was that – he was such a _good_ kid, and he adored his uncle. _:I’ll think about it:_ she allowed.

Tran was speaking again. “I’m going to figure out what to do about Vanyel’s other commitments.” There was a harsh edge to his voice. “Shavri, Dara, I may want your help. I think we’d best assume he’s going to be out for the foreseeable future.” A pause. “Shavri, can you talk to Dara and make a plan for verifying everything we can from Vanyel’s notes? We might as well make a start on that. And start reviewing his past policy-work. We should be reconsidering everything he’s suggested to Randi.” 

Shavri’s nod was reluctant. “All right.”

“Then let’s go.” Tran’s chair scraped back as he stood. “We’ll meet again this afternoon, whenever Melody finishes.”

* * *

“It’s not an emergency or anything,” Dara said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt. “Herald Vanyel just needs a few days off, and Savil can’t pick up all of his duties. So we need you to cover the Web-alarms and some of the routine work that’s scheduled.”

The tall brown-skinned woman – that was Herald-Mage Sandra – just nodded and uncrossed her arms, the movement oddly birdlike. She looked bored. The man beside him, though, leaned forward eagerly. He had a face like a wizened apple, appearing older than Savil, though he was actually decades younger. She knew he had been badly injured during the war and the Healers hadn’t been sure if he would ever walk again. He had, but he still needed a cane and moved stiffly.

Dara didn’t know either of them well, and she had been very nervous about leading this meeting, but Savil had asked her and she wasn’t going to say no.

“Van’s ill?” Kilchas said, curiosity evident in his voice. “Is he at the House of Healing? I ought to drop by.”

“No, um, it’s not that serious.” Fending off his questions felt like picking her way through a field full of snare-traps. “I think he’d rather not have visitors right now, though.”

“Oh.” Kilchas gave her an odd, knowing look. “I see. Well, that’s all right, I don’t mind picking up some slack. How long, do you think?”

“I’m really not sure.” No one had ventured an answer, and when she’d asked Rolan, he had said he doubted Vanyel would be functional at all until and unless Yfandes came back. Which, needless to say, they had no timeline for. “Um, we’ll call another meeting if it looks to be longer than a few days.”

Sandra shot her an irritated look, but said nothing.

 _:Sandra spends most of her time on personal research:_ Rolan sent, helpfully. _:She will be annoyed to be pulled away from that, but she will do as asked:_

At least she didn’t seem curious in the least; that was one blessing. Dara very much hoped that Kilchas wasn’t going to keep asking questions.

“Well, then,” Kilchas said briskly. “What’s this about routine work?”

Dara shuffled the notes she had prepared. “I have a schedule for it here.” She could have wished Rolan had been more available to help her with it; she’d tried to put together a list from Savil’s notes, but so much of it was completely inscrutable to her. “First priority, they’ve found termites in the south guest wing walls, apparently you can do something about that…?” Dara couldn’t think how.

“Oh, yes.” Kilchas grinned, and for a moment she saw a flash of impish-little-boy. “Sandra, I’ll take that one.”

“Mmm.” Sandra didn’t particularly sound like she was listening.

“Thank you,” Dara said, making a note. “Next, someone needs to re-power a bunch of talismans against Thoughtsensing, for our, um, agents.” She hadn’t known until Rolan explained that Valdemar had a number of spies who weren’t Heralds, or Gifted. For sensitive missions, of course they would need shields that they couldn’t provide themselves.

At some point, Rolan said, she ought to sit down and fully learn all of the systems in Valdemar that relied on magic. Fewer than before the war; there were so few mages left. Which had never really sunk in for her before, though she’d known it intellectually. They had gone from thirty-plus to eleven, and there had been no new mage-trainees in five years. Rolan had said there was a theory about it and he would explain later.

There were an awful lot of things Rolan had promised to explain later. Dara had started writing them down. Not that she would ever have thought Rolan would forget something, but…well, he was distracted. She thought that the situation was straining even his remarkable, superhuman ability to keep track of a dozen things at once. He seemed, not stressed, that was too human an emotion, but some equivalent of it.

Dara wished she could help. Help more. _You are helping,_ Rolan had said when she asked, with overtones recognizable as pride. It wasn’t always the case that she could guess what his emotions meant.

“And one of you will need to renew the shielding on the practice room at Bardic,” she finished. Another thing she had learned today, that there was a room in that Collegium shielded against Bardic Gift. It was, apparently, a tricky and unusual type of shield to build, and Savil and Vanyel had co-invented it sometime in recent years. Most of the standard Work Rooms didn’t have it, and certainly the more simply shielded meeting-rooms didn’t. No point – it wasn’t like the Bardic Gift came with Sight that would be useful for listening in.

“I haven’t done that before,” Kilchas admitted. “Sandra? You’re better with the fiddly stuff.”

“Huh?” Sandra lifted her chin from her fist.

“I know it’s a novel technique and neither of you has done it before,” Dara said. “Savil wrote up some instructions on how they did it the first time. I think Bard Breda has them.”

Sandra nodded, interest briefly flashing across her dark face. “I’ll take this one, Kilchas.”

 _:Good job framing it that way:_ Rolan offered, sending a wash of approval. _:Sandra does like a challenge:_ And then he was gone again – still distantly there in the back of her mind, listening in, but distracted.

“Can we come back to Web-alarms?” Kilchas said. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not best-placed to handle most of them. I’m not a Farseer, so I need to use scrying just to see what’s going on, and it’s inefficient and limited in comparison. I can make things explode for you, but if that’s not what’s needed, well, you understand control at a distance is much harder.” Chagrin in his voice.

“I understand,” Dara said, nodding solemnly. “It’s like that for Herald Savil too.” Vanyel was the only Herald-Mage who was also a Farseer, and who could combine other Gifts like Fetching. “Um, I thought we could direct the initial alarms to you, and you can pass them down the Mindspeech relay if the Herald on site can handle it, but of course if it’s too complicated you can pull in Savil.”

“Or we could work in concert,” Sandra said, leaning forward. “I haven’t got the raw power Kilchas does, but we’d been meaning to practice in concert more anyway.”

“That’s a point.” Kilchas nodded, briskly. “Well, girl, we’ll do our best. You’d best tell Van he owes me a drink for this one, though.”

* * *

_He lies on the wet paving-stones of a temple courtyard, gilt all around him – blazing like a furnace in the red sunset – Yfandes fights to keep them alive a few seconds longer –_

_:What came next?:_ Melody sent, her mindvoice quiet and calm with nothing but curiosity. She was there in Vanyel’s mind, caught up in the currents of memory with him, but she took up so little space.

_Scrabbling for options, landing – all decisions involve compromise, Leareth says to him in an icy wasteland – bleeding out on the ground inside a tent in Horn while a battle rages fifty miles away, he makes a choice in seconds – some lines not worth crossing – but rules aren’t real only results – two paths – in one of them, Savil dies – unacceptable –_

He wasn’t sure what Melody was doing, that made the memories so close and immediate. Four years ago, and it felt like it was still happening somewhere, a moment caught in amber. The decision-point that had changed everything.

 _:Why?:_ Melody prompted. Simply, calmly.

_You have a part to play, the goddess says, standing on a path of moonbeams with the whole night sky in her eyes – a room with a garden door, plucked from time, dusty nebulas shining through the windows –‘Lendel’s eyes are black in the candlelight, haunted – something that has to happen, he says, weeping – you are the best chance, the Shadow-Lover says as he holds Vanyel, the odds are better if you are there – information you must have – tied to the world by a silver cord – you are trying to give a Goddess orders, the Star-Eyed says – just making a prediction, he tells her – a path through the darkness…_

–He came swimming up out of the fragments of memory, gasping, as Melody pulled away and raised her shields. Whatever she had seen, it had shaken her.

“Breathe,” Melody said, out loud. “Take a minute.”

Yet again, he found himself curled in fetal position on the bed. He struggled to sit up, looking dully at his trembling hands. It felt like they belonged to someone else. Savil’s curtains swam in his vision, but the room didn’t seem real. Like it was painted on the finest silk, that he might tear with a fingernail, and lose himself forever in the cracks between memories… He wasn’t quite hallucinating, but the corners of everything wavered, like a breath would melt them, and colours were too bright.

“Van?” he heard Melody say. “You’re seeming pretty overwhelmed. We’ll take a longer break. Here, have some more tea.” He felt her press a warm cup into his hands, folding his fingers around it.

“I’m sorry,” he managed.

“No, I am.” Her voice was still calm, but there was contrition in it. “I pushed you too hard, I think.”

Vanyel made himself take a sip of tea. It helped, warming his throat, anchoring him in his body. _This moment. Now. This is what’s real._ A loop of thought that was almost-but-not-quite his, a redirect Melody had put in before they started.

“You did the right thing,” Melody said gently. “I’m sorry that you were ever in that position.”

Damn it, but her sympathy made it worse. _It’s my own damned fault I was in that position._ Mistakes he could never take back.

He wasn’t the only one who had made a permanent mistake, was he? _A horizon turned to blue-white fire–_

It took only that little push to bring the tears to the surface again. _:Melody:_ he sent, helplessly.

 _:I’m here:_ He felt her take the tea from his hands, just before he would have dropped it, and then she was there in his thoughts again – not comforting him, not really doing anything, certainly not with her Gift, just…watching. Bearing witness.

Fifty people dead, lights blotted out of the world. Sixteen years of pain. _I never stopped paying for your mistake, ashke._

 _:Steady:_ Melody sent.

 _You didn’t care enough to stay_ , he thought. And neither had Yfandes. Turning, vanishing into the darkness… Everyone he loved, walking away.

_You didn’t care enough to stay. Why should I?_

_:Van:_ Melody was there. Not arguing, only offering a scaffold. He clung to her mind like a drowning man.

_Tied to the world by a silver cord. All the people in it, and that matters so much more than his private grief. And yet. Impossible. He isn’t Leareth. He can’t do this alone._

_:You’re not alone:_ Melody sent.

Savil’s words. _Vanyel, we’re going to try to make this right. Together. I promised, right? That you wouldn’t have to do this alone._

He had wandered so far from what it meant to be a Herald – a foundation that had always been real to Savil, if not to him, a path that was clear and bright. He hadn’t thought that the words of the Heralds’ Creed were a lie, when he knelt at Randi’s feet to swear the oath, and yet. _The deeds of those who lived before, the legends of our past, have shown me the way…_ That wasn’t true, not anymore, maybe never had been. He was the first to walk this path – the first except Leareth – and there was no one to light it before him, at least no one he trusted. No clarity. He felt like he might never understand anything again.

 _It is upon love that we build this foundation, and_ _for love that I will serve Valdemar as long as there is breath in me_. Incomplete, yes, but not a lie; he could still, with absolute certainty, say that he cared about Valdemar. Not as an abstract concept, but as people, half a million of them. Lights in the world. Worth protecting. _Upon my soul I vow this to you, that the light that is our people may never fade._ Had Leareth ever heard those words? What would he think?

Maybe it wasn’t an oath Vanyel could keep – maybe there were dangers beyond what he could fight – but he would never, ever stop trying.

 _Where you lead, I cannot be afraid_. Did he still believe that? He hadn’t at first, not really. It hadn’t taken many years at all before he would have been willing to follow Randi to the ends of the earth – but still unwilling to trust him. Unwilling to tell him the truth.

Too late for lies, now. No more secrets. Randi knew, even if no one had dared tell Vanyel how he had reacted.

_What choice do I have but to trust you, Randi?_

There was always a choice.

 _My Companion has opened a door in my heart._ Was he still allowed to say that, after her parting words? _What’s happened to you, Vanyel? You aren’t the person I Chose._ And he had felt the strain on their bond, like the seams of his mind coming undone.

 _:Van, step back from it:_ Melody sent. _:Here and now:_

* * *

Their morning classes had just ended, and Medren was sitting at his desk, scribbling down the lyrics to a half-finished song before he forgot them. Stef was sprawled on his bed, head dangling over the side, playing his lute upside-down.

There was a knock on the door. “Boys?” Breda’s voice.

Medren slid down from the bed. “I’m coming!”

Breda stood in the doorway, tall and formidable – Medren had, finally, overtopped her earlier this year, but somehow she could _still_ make him feel like he was a child looking up at her. The way she was squinting in the light meant she had a dazzle-headache coming on.

“Medren,” she said, unsmiling. “Come to my room for a minute? I need to speak with you. Privately.”

What? Medren darted a glance over his shoulder at Stef. _You’re in trouble_ , his roommate mouthed silently. Out of Breda’s view, Medren stuck out his tongue, then he turned back to her, ignoring the quiver of nerves. “Of course. I’m coming.”

Her room was very dark, curtains pulled to block out the sunlight; it reminded him of a bear’s cave. _Complete with an angry bear ready to maul me if I make a wrong step._ He and Breda were something like friends, now, or as close to it as a student and teacher could be – but when she was in pain, she took it out on anyone who got in her way.

“Heya, Medren,” a familiar voice said, and a moment later, as his eyes adjusted, he recognized the face as well. Like an apparition, swimming out of the darkness and clearly out of place.

“Aunt Savil?” She had told him to call her that, not ‘great-aunt’; she said it made her feel like a crone. “What are you…?”

“I need to ask a favour of you,” Savil said. “You can say no, of course, if you aren’t up for it.” She paused until he nodded. “And, I hate to do this, but can I ask you please not to tell your roommate?”

“What?” Medren said blankly.

Breda interrupted. “Stef may be my pride and joy, but you know he can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Medren would have chuckled, if not for the creeping sense that whatever was happening, it wasn’t funny at all. It was a little unfair to Stef, he thought, who was as tactical about which rumours he spread as he was about everything else, but certainly he couldn’t be trusted with a secret if he might get something out of sharing it. “All right,” he said warily. “I won’t tell Stef.”

“It’s about your Uncle Van.” Savil’s voice was a monotone, and for the first time he noticed how tired she seemed. Shoulders bowed, the skin under her eyes loose – right now she _did_ look rather crone-like. Not that he would ever let her hear him say it. “He’s…having a difficult time,” she went on. “It’s not my story to tell, so I won’t, but I’d like it if he had someone with him this afternoon.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Medren clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course. I’d be happy to do that.”

“He may not be very good company,” Savil warned.

“I understand.” Medren tried not to fidget. _What’s going on with you, Van?_ “When? Now?” 

“If that’s all right with you.”

Which would mean missing lessons. Medren glanced up, trying to catch Breda’s eye; she returned a fractional nod.

“Of course,” he said, smiling at Savil.

She didn’t smile back. “Thank you. I have to ask… Please don’t prod him about it or ask questions. We may have to ask you to leave and come back, at some point – it’s not personal. And…I know your mother asks you about him. Don’t write to her about this, please.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Uncle Van cared so much about his privacy. And dignity. Whatever was going on, Medren had no intention of making it worse, even if he was dying of curiosity. Not his business.

Breda had been right. It would be a terrible idea to tell Stef about this. _He’d go after it like a dog after a rabbit._ And make just as much of a mess as one, too.

“Good lad,” Savil said tonelessly. “He’s in my suite. If you don’t mind making your way there in a few minutes, I have other commitments.”

Breda folded her arms. “All sorted now? Out, both of you.”

Savil put her hands on her knees and started to stand; Medren jumped to offer her his arm, and she gave him a smile that looked almost natural. “Bless you. Your mother raised you well.” Medren felt his cheeks warming.

At the door, Breda caught Savil’s shoulder and held out her arms, and to Medren’s surprise, the two women embraced. Savil rested her head on Breda’s shoulder, and kept it there for a long time.

“I know you can’t tell me,” he heard Breda murmur. “Take care of yourself, all right? And him.”

Whatever Savil whispered in return, he didn’t catch it. She disentangled himself, and Breda closed the door on them.

“Where are you going next?” he asked Savil, once they were back in the hallway. “I’ll walk you there and then I can go over.” He ought to double back and retrieve his lute. Hopefully Stef would have decided against waiting for him, and gone to lunch; he didn’t feel like fielding his roommate’s questions right now. He wanted some time to think of a story first. _Maybe I’ll pretend I am in trouble. That Breda set me to some kind of punishment._ Stef might fall for that, if he looked hangdog enough.

“I don’t–” Savil stopped. She rubbed her hip, wincing. “That would be very thoughtful of you. Need to think a minute. Where _am_ I going?” A pause, and her face slipped into a familiar blankness; she was Mindspeaking with someone. “Healers’,” she said, a little more firmly. “If you don’t mind…?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” He was worried about her. And Uncle Van. _I wish I knew what was going on._ “Shall we?” He extended his arm to her again.

“They teach you such good manners at Bardic.” Savil laid her forearm over his.

They walked in silence for a few minutes; Medren thought about excusing himself and dashing back to his room for a cloak, but he wouldn’t be outside for long. He held the door for Savil, and they stepped outside into the blinding sunlight, their breath hanging in white clouds.

He wasn’t sure whether to make conversation or not. Over the years, though, he had noticed that either his Gift, or the other training they had, gave him a good read on people. He focused in on his great-aunt. Tension in her spine, lips pressed together. _She wouldn’t mind being distracted,_ he decided.

“Aunt Savil? Are you and Bard Breda good friends?”

“Oh.” She glanced over at him. “We’ve known each other a great many years, there is that. Though it’s been too long since we’ve talked. I’m too damned busy. Need to learn to make more time for old friends.”

Her voice was wistful, and there was something else underneath it, that Medren didn’t want to poke at too hard. Keep the conversation on the surface-level. “What do you talk about, when you do talk? I mean, she isn’t a Herald, or a mage.”

“Students, mainly.” Savil was holding her shoulders more easily, now, and her breath wasn’t so tightly controlled. “Doesn’t matter if they’re mage-gifted or Bardic-gifted, youngsters are youngsters.”

“That makes sense.” He could imagine Breda and Savil going about teaching in a similar way.

Savil went on as though she hadn’t heard. “Far more effort than they’re worth, until you turn your back for an instant and suddenly they’re all grown up.”

“Mmm.” Medren wasn’t sure what else to say.

“You must be one of the easy ones, of course,” Savil said, glancing at him again. “Keeping the peace between all the troublemakers. I’ve had a few–” She stopped, biting off whatever she had been about to say, and her eyes went to the horizon. There was pain there, and he wondered who, exactly, she was remembering.

“Er. I try.” His cheeks felt hot again. “All right, Aunt Savil. Here we are.”


	6. Chapter Six

“Thank you, Shavri,” Randi said dully. “You can drop it.”

Melody tipped her head forward in a nod. She wasn’t, quite, glowering at him, but it was close.

It wasn’t that he thought she would lie. _I just had to be sure._ The Mindhealer had given him a withering look when he asked if she would be willing to repeat her findings under a first-level Truth Spell, but had gone along with it, and the blue halo resting on her hair hadn’t budged.

 _What now?_ Randi’s head ached, and he still felt lost. Unmoored. It was information – Melody said she was sure that the memories were real, that Vanyel wasn’t delusional, and she hadn’t seen any sign of tampering in his mind – but he didn’t know where to go with it.

There was the caveat Melody had given. _One thing I can’t, actually, prove, is that he wasn’t under a compulsion in the past that was skillfully removed later. It would be easier to tell on someone else, but his mind has been modified plenty. By me, and Lancir, and…other forces._ Her face had showed discomfort for the first time, and a hint of something like anger. _I don’t know if it’s from speaking to the Shadow-Lover or speaking to the Star-Eyed, but there are some seriously strange patterns._

“Melody?” Shavri said, hesitantly. She was sitting in the chair next to Randi, but with space between them, not touching. “…How is he doing? Really?”

The Mindhealer’s eyes flickered downward. “You really want to know? It could be worse, I suppose. He hasn’t said he wanted to die and meant it, and he hasn’t made any serious attempt to hurt himself. Though I very much recommend not leaving him unsupervised. What I just put him through was very disruptive, and he’s overwhelmed and terrified. This is too much for him – honestly, it’d be too much for anyone. ” Her shoulders rose and fell, jerkily. “Don’t know how you expect me to just go in and fix it.”

“No one’s expecting the impossible of you,” Randi said quickly. “Thank you, Melody. I appreciate what you’re doing.”

Another curt, unsmiling nod.

Randi closed his eyes. _What does it mean?_ There were so many pieces here, a drifting jumble of them. Starting with Dara’s briefing on what she had found. The statue was exactly as Vanyel had described it. They would have to send a Herald south to check the cave, but Savil had examined some of the artifacts that Vanyel’s notes claimed he had retrieved from it, and confirmed their age.

Randi wasn’t ready to say he was convinced, but Leareth’s existence seemed close to confirmed, and even his claimed immortality was starting to feel less implausible.

They were narrowing down the space of options. It was conceivable that Melody was wrong, but even he had to admit that was starting to feel very slim.

He took a deep breath. _Start with what you know._ A phrase Vanyel had used dozens of times, approaching some complex problem – and now he had to wonder if it had come from Leareth.

Like the ground opening under his feet. For over a decade, Vanyel had been one of his best friends – and, all of that time, he had been speaking to a dark mage in his dreams, and telling no one. Not even his King.

_Was he ever really the person I knew?_

Now wasn’t the time to think about that stinging betrayal. Whatever feelings he had about his friend Vanyel, they were important to deal with – Darvi had taught him better than to try to ignore them, understanding his own emotions were essential to good judgement – but not relevant to right now.

“All right,” he heard himself say. “We’ve followed up on all the easy avenues for more information. Now we should think through the ramifications. Hmm. I think we ought to do that separately, first. Dara? Can you time five minutes, and we’ll all mull this over and them come back?”

A nod, and Dara bent her head.

It was an exercise Vanyel had introduced – again, that catch in his thoughts. How many of Vanyel’s brilliant flashes of insight had been nothing of the sort, only borrowed lessons from an immortal enemy? He had watched his friend change, over time – watched him grow up, really, though he had never put it that way, Randi was only three years younger but that was a lot at eighteen and Van had always been the worldly, experienced, heroic one.

How much of that had really been life experience, and how much of it had been Leareth?

_I can’t question every conversation we ever had._

Start with the likeliest, then. Which of Vanyel’s various discoveries and proposals stood out as most impressive and least expected? The Web-Spell was a clear example – one of the greatest workings in Valdemaran history, and in hindsight it seemed like Vanyel had pulled it out of nowhere. He’d had help from the Tayledras for the Heartstone, but all the complex maths behind it had come from somewhere else. Dara, summarizing Vanyel’s notes to Shavri earlier, had as good as confirmed Leareth as the source.

Oh, gods. The vrondi, the lack of mage-gifted children… _Was that Leareth’s plan all along?_ If so, Vanyel hadn’t known; he wouldn’t have done it if he’d had any inkling. Randi had to believe that, or, or–

A quiet note of alarm. _What can’t I think about?_

That Vanyel was a traitor to the Kingdom, if not consciously then in every way that mattered; that Leareth had coaxed him over to his side sometime in the early days. Not by magic, but maybe he hadn’t needed compulsions to worm through the defences of a traumatized seventeen-year-old. Melody said that Vanyel believed he had Valdemar’s best interests at heart, but how much did that mean?

It hurt, anger and betrayal and hopeless confusion curdling in his belly, but he forced himself to stare at it anyway.

No. Brought into the open, it felt, not impossible, but unlikely. Maybe, no, almost certainly, Vanyel had been manipulated, but he had still been questioning everything Leareth said. Randi had reviewed the most pivotal notes, sorted by Dara, and her competent summary, and that much had seemed evident. Melody had repeated it. _He’s trying to do the right thing,_ she had said, and Tran had rolled his eyes, but Randi believed her.

Maybe Vanyel’s assessment was accurate, and Leareth did truly believe he was doing the right thing as well. The trouble was, he wouldn’t be the first person in history to commit atrocities in the name of some grand vision. Or to pull young, idealistic would-be heroes in his wake. He remembered the mage-gifted Karsite children indoctrinated into the priesthood, sent out to wield power born of death and pain, in the name of their beloved god. Told they were defending their country against a monstrous enemy. _They never had a chance._

Maybe Vanyel hadn’t either.

…Surely that kind of radicalization wasn’t something Van could have hidden from Yfandes. Even if this Leareth was clever enough to suborn a Herald just by talking to him persuasively, Companions were immune to that kind of corruption. Were supposed to be. If they weren’t, then Randi, and all of Valdemar, had a much bigger problem than they could ever have imagined.

Even if Vanyel hadn’t been irreversibly corrupted, he had at least been turned a little. How much? Could they trust his judgement? Hells, could they trust any of the advice he had given in the last ten years?

A surge of anger, rising over the confusion. _Dammit, Van, why?_

The problem was, he knew why. Yfandes, and Taver, had advised Vanyel to keep talking to Leareth, and to keep it to himself. Which made no sense, and didn’t really alleviate the pain of that deception. _I thought you trusted me._

A second-level Truth Spell and the right questions might be enough to gauge how much Vanyel could be trusted. He had gone under Truth Spell before, but it had its limitations; it didn’t compel full honesty, only the answers to the precise questions asked. Vanyel was very good at answering to the letter of the question, and nothing more – he had to be, he was so damned skilled with contracts and treaties. _Did he pick that up that from Leareth as well?_

Before, they hadn’t known to ask the right questions. If they had, this would all have come out sooner, two years ago. Most of it. Not Leareth’s most recent revelation.

–Oh. Like a punch to the stomach. _Is that what she saw?_

Companions knew a lot more than they let on; they had something like Foresight, it was thought, only broader and more nebulous. Yfandes, and Taver, wouldn’t have needed to know the what and why; they might have seen, in that strange Companion way, that Vanyel needed to keep talking to Leareth. Needed to, eventually, be turned just enough that he extended an offer of trust, developing rapport with a destined enemy so that Leareth would eventually tell him the truth – if it was the truth, they had no way of confirming that very important fact – and Valdemar would be forewarned of a threat that he still couldn’t think about head-on. Something much worse than a dark mage lurking on their borders.

Yfandes wouldn’t have needed to know that, in the end, it would drive her away from her Chosen.

The sheer tragedy of it pushed aside the anger. _Would the gods be that cruel?_ A child’s pointless question, and he knew the answer.

“That’s five minutes,” Dara said, pulling Randi out of the pointless rumination.

“Thank you.” Focus on the moment. He could wallow in feelings later. “Let’s go around and share. Savil?”

Her face was a distant mask, unreadable. “I did wonder about the significance of Lancir having known. He didn’t tell us, presumably because Taver vetoed it, but he must have advised Vanyel on it, and that would have covered, let me think, ninety-one or two until ninety-seven. Five years. I don’t know if that means much, but Lance can’t have been very worried that Vanyel would turn traitor, or he would’ve taken stronger measures. Tried to stop the dreams, maybe.”

Lancir. Randi had forgotten about that. _What sort of man was he?_ He had never really known the previous Queen’s Own, but from what he had heard, Lancir had been everything one could ask in a Herald. Dedicated, caring, deeply ethical.

“It seemed to me from the notes that Van was still thinking of Leareth as a clear enemy, at that point,” he said. “Maybe Leareth wasn’t able to manipulate him as much when Lancir was involved, and that happened afterwards.” The notes from during the war had been particularly disturbing. _He was so vulnerable._ Alone in a combat zone, mired in exhaustion and despair, and Leareth had sometimes been the only living person he spoke to face-to-face for months at a time. Was it any wonder that Vanyel would have leaned on that connection?

Savil bent her head. “Maybe. Also. I was thinking of a conversation I had with Van after Sunhame.” A silent ripple went around the room. “His reasoning, the way he thought about the ethics of the situation. I was… Well, quite honestly, I was furious. There was a while when we weren’t speaking at all. Wasn’t until months later that we sat down and really tried to hash it out. That conversation makes a lot more sense, now.”

 _Oh, that was what that was about?_ Randi remembered it, but had never quite put it together. And the reminder that Savil, too, had kept Vanyel’s secret for two years… An echo of the old sting. _You lied to me. Both of you._

Savil shrugged, her face still empty of expression. “Not a conclusion, really, just… I think the Van who never spoke to Leareth would have died there. That’s all.”

 _Maybe that would have been better._ Randi was half-appalled at the involuntary thought, and yet. It had always felt like Valdemar would have been doomed without Vanyel, their most powerful defender – but better no defender at all than one who might choose to side with the enemy.

He didn’t say any of it out loud. “Thank you, Savil. Tran?”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter if Vanyel thinks he’s still on our side.” Tran’s voice was hard. “If Sunhame is what happens when he’s trying his best to do right by the Kingdom… It should have been a wake-up call. He may not trust Leareth, or be ready to defect to him, but…he _thinks_ like him, and that’s worse. And I don’t think we can undo it.”

He had a point. Vanyel had even acknowledged to himself, in his notes, that Leareth had shaped the person he was. True, just because Leareth was evil didn’t make everything he said wrong, but the bottom line was the same. Vanyel had used blood-magic on the battlefield, and until he had been confronted with it, Randi would have said that was inexcusable.

 _I forgave him._ Had that been a mistake? He had so desperately wanted to go back to the way things had been before, because he needed Van so badly. One of his best advisors. Yfandes had backed Vanyel’s decision, and Randi had told himself that was all he needed to know.

But just because he didn’t want something to be true, didn’t mean he could ignore it. _I have to be able to look at reality._

…Another phrase he had learned from Vanyel. Though this one, at least, he didn’t think came from Leareth alone. Seldasen made that point as well.

He didn’t know what to think.

“Also,” Tran said, “I’m very, very worried about what Leareth knows about us, thanks to Vanyel’s ‘trust.’” He almost spat the word. “This could put us in a very bad position.”

Randi looked away. “I know. I had the same thought.” He waited, but Tran had fallen silent. “Thank you. Shavri?”

Her face was as closed as he had ever seen it, and she took a long moment before she answered. “I was wondering about what Leareth knows right now,” she said finally. “He must have spies. Possibly he can tell that Vanyel’s Foresight is blocked. In any case, it seems very bad for him to find out about what’s happening between us right now.” She closed her eyes. “Vanyel is our only weapon against him, and he…isn’t functional. We’re divided. Leareth could use that against us. Even if he was telling the truth, and he really does want to build a better world. He was ready to roll right over Valdemar to do that, and we have to assume he still is and he’ll use any information to his advantage.”

It wasn’t something Randi had considered, and he should have. _How does she always surprise me?_ He felt a rush of affection, pride, and a sliver of guilt; he wasn’t sure if he ever gave Shavri enough credit.

“That’s true,” he said. “Makes it all the more important that what’s in this room, stays here, until we make a decision. Thank you. Dara?”

The young woman twitched. “Oh. Um, I was thinking about things we could check, and I remembered something Savil said, yesterday. These magic storms. It wasn’t very specific, I don’t know if Vanyel would know any more, but I wonder if that’s something we could find out more about on our own. If Leareth was telling the truth about that, it seems more likely the rest was true as well.”

Right. Randi had entirely forgotten about that single offhand sentence. “Worth considering. Not that I know where we would even start. Savil, any thoughts?”

She only shook her head.

“Moving on, then. Melody?”

The Mindhealer’s eyebrows rose, one hand darting to tug her sleeve straight. She hadn’t expected to be called on, Randi thought – but she was clever, and they had so few people available to think it over, he needed all the perspectives he could get.

“I’m confused that Yfandes left,” she said, eyes moving about the room between all of their faces. “Given what they’ve been through together, and that Yfandes had full context on all of the conversations he’d had with Leareth in the past – well, the fact that he wanted to take some time to consider what to do rather than jumping to offensive action honestly seems reasonable to me. It shouldn’t have been enough to drive her away.” Her shoulder twitched. “It’s not like he was going ahead and proposing joining Leareth. I have a pretty good sense of what he’s feeling, and he’s just as horrified and sickened by this as we are. He just wanted to think it through, which is exactly what he would do, and one of his greatest strengths. Yfandes backs him when he murders six men for blood-power, but storms out because he wants to consider a hypothetical before jumping to conclusions? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Put like that, it really was surprising. All of this was a shock to him, and to everyone else in the room, but they were finding out fifteen years worth of it at once, on top of the betrayal that Vanyel had kept it from them. Not a factor for Yfandes. When he turned it over in his mind, it really didn’t seem like Leareth’s second-to-last conversation with Vanyel was that much worse than the rest – worse, sure, but not the difference between full support and near-repudiation.

Yfandes hadn’t even stayed long enough for the followup. _She’s not going to be pleased when she comes back and finds out about the ten million people._ A random, not very helpful thought – and he realized he was tacitly assuming that she would come back. Which, he reminded himself, they didn’t know for sure.

“She didn’t go to Rolan,” Melody added. “This is very relevant to the Heraldic Circle, and I can’t see her _forgetting_ that, no matter how upset she was. She didn’t outright repudiate him, either. So – I wonder if she’s unsure as well. If she just needed time to wrap her head around it, but was always planning tocome back.” A shrug. “We can hope.”

How must Rolan feel, that Yfandes hadn’t so much as warned him? The Companions were supposed to trust the Groveborn implicitly. If and when Yfandes did come back, Rolan was likely to be quite displeased with her.

Not relevant right now. He glanced around the room, hopefully, but everyone had spoken now, and no one seemed inclined to say more.

Stay on track. “We have a lot of open questions. I don’t think we can answer all of them quickly.” Pause, gather his thoughts. “At this point, I’m inclined to believe Leareth is a genuine threat, regardless of whether he’s really immortal or just running an elaborate con.” And one without clear benefit; if Leareth’s goal had been to intimidate Vanyel, he could have picked something more believable. “I don’t have a strong opinion on whether he’s telling the truth about his horrific plan, but I’m honestly not sure why he would lie about that.”

Reluctant nods.

“At some point we’ll need to look for some kind of outside confirmation.” Not that he had any ideas, yet. “Anyway, our other uncertainties are around what Leareth knows about us, and what plans he may have worked via Vanyel in the last decade. The easiest way to get more clarity on both of those things is from Vanyel directly.” He turned to catch Melody’s eye. “When do you think he’ll be ready to handle more questioning?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have an answer to that.”

Randi sighed. His temples were throbbing, which made it very difficult to think. “Melody,” he said, wearily. “I know you’re worried about his wellbeing, and I wish I could be gentle with him, but…I don’t think we can afford it, right now. All I need is a couple of candlemarks with him functional enough to put under Truth Spell.”

He carefully didn’t look at Shavri’s face, but he felt her reaction anyway, rippling through the lifebond – surprise, disappointment, real anger. _I’m sorry,_ he thought, pointlessly.

Melody’s hand flicked to her ear, tucking back a lock of hair. “I really wouldn’t recommend doing that.”

Randi closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Melody. We need information. He would understand that.”

A pause. “Can we speak about this privately?”

He frowned. “Later. Talk to Shavri. I have an audience after this.”

* * *

The blanket-draped figure on the bed stirred.

Medren set down the gittern, and rubbed his sore fingertips. The steel strings made for an incredible sound, soaring, achingly beautiful, but they weren’t easy on his hands.

“Uncle Van?” he said, cautiously. “It’s past sundown. Should I call for supper?”

A long pause, and then Vanyel rolled over and propped himself up one elbow. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and finally seemed to realize Medren was in the room. “I… Sorry,” he said, grimacing slightly. He cleared his throat. “Did I fall asleep? Rude of me.” 

He had, in fact, been asleep for three or four candlemarks. “Only for a bit,” Medren lied. “I don’t mind.” That part was true; it had been substantially less awkward than trying to make conversation. “Thank you for letting me play with her a little.”

Vanyel didn’t, quite, smile, but he seemed to be trying. “You’re welcome.”

Medren still remembered the day Vanyel had purchased the instrument, at the Harvest-fair in Forst Reach Village. The same day his uncle had bought him his first good instrument. He had been surprised to see the gittern here, in Savil’s quarters. _I’ve barely touched her in years_ , Vanyel had admitted, which was a crying shame.

“I’ll get us some supper,” Medren said, as cheerfully as he could manage, and stood up. Reluctantly. Now that he had stopped playing, he felt very, very tired. It was rare that he played for so long in one stretch, and he had been putting his Gift into all of it, even the fumbling practice-scales when he was getting used to the new instrument. Which was a whole trick, and one that most of his fellow students didn’t seem to know – they let the songs guide them. Stef was the one who had shown him how to infuse any random sequence of notes with whichever emotion he chose. It was hard to do anything complex or interesting, but in this case, calm and soothing had been his only goal.

It had apparently been enough. Before he started playing, Vanyel had been extremely tense. It had been hard for Medren to tell what else he was feeling, even with all of his training and whatever subtle edge his Gift seemed to give him – but he hadn’t spoken at all, or made eye contact, for the first full candlemark that Medren had been there. He had stayed curled up in a tight ball in Savil’s bed, and it had taken fifteen minutes just to coax him into sitting up and picking at the lunch-tray Medren had asked a page to bring.

Medren could have poked around more – the Bardic Gift could amplify emotions that a person was already feeling, pulling them out into the light – but Savil had specifically asked him not to prod. Melody, the green-robed Healer who had been there when he arrived, had told him that playing music might help, but to avoid anything that might be upsetting. He wouldn’t have dreamed of disobeying.

Eventually, finally, Uncle Van’s eyelids had started drooping. He had succumbed to the inevitable and mumbled something apologetic about lying down ‘just for a minute’. Medren had played on for nearly half a candlemark, until Vanyel was good and asleep, before putting down the instrument for a moment and tiptoeing to pull the covers over him.

 _Coax him to nap, if you can_ , the Healer had said to him, and so he was feeling rather proud of himself.

It had been interesting, playing just for one person – he had been much more aware than usual of the interplay between his Gift and Vanyel. There was always some of that, of course, but it was different with a larger audience. He had been able to focus on his uncle’s sheer exhaustion, and pull on it – and, later, when he sensed the vague edges of what might have been nightmares, he wasn’t sure because he’d never played for someone asleep before but it seemed like it had to be that, he had been able to nudge them away. Songs of rest, and peace, and lazy summer days.

It was later than Medren had thought; the moon had risen, half-visible through banks of cloud, and the fire had burned down in the hearth. The sitting-room was very dark, with only a single candle by the door. He must have lost track of time, caught up in the music. No wonder his fingers hurt so much.

He was ravenous. _I hope supper won’t take too long._

Melody had said it was all right not to be watching Vanyel every single moment, as long as he left all the doors open and kept an ear out. Waiting for a page to answer the bell – and still marvelling at the Heraldic privilege of being able to call for supper without even leaving the room – Medren knelt and added another log to the fire, filled the kettle from Savil’s water-urn, and lit a few more candles.

When he went back to the bedroom, Vanyel was up, standing by the window. The tension had already crept back into his spine; he held himself as though braced for a blow. Moonlight cast a silvery halo around his head.

“I made tea,” Medren said.

Vanyel didn’t turn around at first, and when he did, he dragged a sleeve over his face first. “I’m coming.” His voice was thick, and he cleared his throat again.

Medren said nothing. _I’m going to pretend I can’t tell you were crying._ In the dim candlelight, it was deniable enough.

* * *

You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.

Shavri sat with her fingers curled around a cup of tea, wishing she were literally anywhere else. They had ended up in the sitting room in her suite at Healers’, somehow – it was more convenient for Melody, just down the hall from her own rooms, and Randi had been in the House of Healing anyway for one of his check-ups. Jisa was out with Beri, and ought not to be back for another candlemark.

It was already evening. The afternoon had gone on forever, most of it spent – wasted, it seemed to her – on routine commitments. Randi had sat through a scheduled audience that Tran hadn’t wanted to cancel; Shavri hadn’t even been there, because Tran had fobbed off one of his scheduled meeting with some trade representatives from the southeast onto Dara so he could take over a meeting Vanyel had been supposed to run, and he had asked Shavri to be there as a backstop. The young trainee had done very well, Shavri thought, hiding her nerves and seeming much older than her sixteen years.

Randi was across the table from her now, avoiding her eyes, his posture guarded. _He knows I’m upset._ There hadn’t even been a chance to talk, really, since his unilateral decision in the meeting.

None of them were speaking. Melody’s eyes were hostile. _I have no idea how to start this conversation._ Clearly, neither did Randi.

One of them had to say something sooner or later. “How is he?” she said.

Melody sipped her tea, set the cup down. “He got some sleep this afternoon, thanks to his Bardic-Gifted nephew – very nice young man – and I put in some redirects that should help in the short run. Only spent a few minutes with him, though, he’s too worn out for anything more.”

“Who’s with him now?”

“His sister.” Melody frowned. “Not ideal. He’s comfortable with her, which is good, but Lissa doesn’t know anything, so he can’t talk to her about it.”

“Seems like he’s doing better,” Randi said. “Is there any reason we can’t–”

“King Randale.” Melody’s voice was deceptively mild, but there was ice underneath. “You know why it’s ill-advised to interrogate him under Truth Spell. I didn’t particularly want to talk about it in front of everybody, and look like I was questioning your authority – I know you’re under enough pressure right now. But. I’m not sure why you see the need to do this now. You said yourself this wasn’t urgent.”

It was exactly what Shavri had been thinking, though she hadn’t found the courage to say anything in front of the others either; she hadn’t had _words_ for it, yet, only a vague unnamed wrongness.

Randi met her eyes, unperturbed. “Not urgent on the level of minutes or candlemarks, but we still can’t afford to waste time needlessly.” He lifted one hand to his jaw, rubbed the hint of stubble there. “When exactly do you think would be a better time?”

Melody raised her chin. “This has been going on for decades. I don’t see what difference a month or so would make.”

“I do.” Randi lifted his cup, sipped, and set it down, all without shifting his gaze from Melody’s face.

 _I feel like neither of them even knows I’m here,_ Shavri thought.

Melody’s eyebrows rose. “Go on, then.” 

Randi steepled his fingers together, resting on the tabletop. “Right now, I can’t trust him. Tantras thinks he’s a traitor, and I – Melody, you have to understand why I don’t feel comfortable defending him.”

“I don’t understand, actually. You just ordered me to go into his mind and sift through his entire life, and I told you what I found. I think you may not understand how traumatic it was for him – I had to make him relive all his worst memories, to get at what I needed to see. I’m really not sure what questioning him again adds to that.”

Irritation flashed through Randi’s eyes. “For one, you _haven’t_ told me. You refused to give any specifics. And you aren’t a Herald.”

“So you don’t trust me.” Melody’s voice could have cut glass.

“That’s not it.” Twin spots of red had appeared high on Randi’s cheeks. “Melody, I trust your judgement within your area of expertise. I know you’re doing everything you can to get Vanyel through this, and I appreciate it deeply. I don’t know what we would do without your help, right now. But, just…” He swallowed. “It’s outside your scope to assess whether we can trust Vanyel’s judgement on matters of the Kingdom, and I need to know. Whatever else is true about him, Leareth is clearly a brilliant man, and he’s had access to Vanyel for half his life, starting when he was an impressionable youngster. Doesn’t matter how hard Van was trying to do the right thing – he’s been influenced. I need to know how deep that goes.”

His voice had cracked slightly, on the final words. _He’s terrified._ She could feel it through their bond, even though both of them were shielding.

She could guess why. For years, Randi had leaned on Vanyel’s advice, trusting their friend’s intuitions on certain matters more highly than his own. All along, he might have been enacting exactly the policies that served Leareth’s ends…

Though, really, did that change the facts? So many of Vanyel’s ideas – Leareth’s ideas – had played out incredibly well. Leareth might have harmed Valdemar, sending mercenaries to kill or steal their mage-gifted children, probably for decades, but as far as they knew he had really and truly stopped doing that when Vanyel asked, and at least on the surface, Valdemar had drawn real benefit from his advice since then. No matter what angle she tried, Shavri couldn’t think of any way that the education system, based so heavily on a text Leareth claimed to have written in some long-ago life, would make their Kingdom weaker or easier to defeat in battle.

Randi was speaking again. “Additionally, I don’t know what inside information Vanyel has been leaking to this man, accidentally or deliberately. That’s relevant.”

Melody’s eyes darted to the window, then back, her fingers tapping restlessly at the rim of her teacup. “Listen,” she said quietly. “I know it’s hard, sitting with this much uncertainty. You just found out about something huge, and you’re reevaluating all your assumptions. You’re afraid, which is very understandable; you want to start making plans, and you feel like there are too many unknown variables. Still. I’m not sure that’s worth the damage it would cause Vanyel, subjecting him to this now.”

Silence.

Randi stared past her, lips moving faintly, clearly choosing his words. “Are you sure there’s ever going to be a better time?” he said finally. “I mean, if Yfandes comes back, and decides to repudiate him after all – or, gods, if she kills herself out there–”

Shavri winced. _You didn’t have to say that out loud._ It hurt, how calm his voice was. Like he was talking about the weather. How could he even think about it? She had been trying so hard not to.

Melody’s lips tightened. “That’s a point,” she said finally. “If that happens, it would break him completely.”

“And make it a lot harder to get anything useful out of him, assuming he survives it at all. Meaning this could be our best chance.”

Dead silence.

“Melody?” Randi’s voice was softer, almost tentative. “I don’t _want_ to hurt him. Is…is there any way we could approach this, that would make it easier?”

A sigh. “I don’t know. Well, one thing – if you’re going to insist on doing this, I want to be there, and I want the right to veto any question, or stop the conversation at any time.” A pause. “No matter what, this is going to make it hard for him to trust you again. Even harder, rather. You haven’t exactly been kind to him so far.”

Randi’s shoulders tightened, and Shavri felt the wash of defensiveness-shame-guilt through their bond. “I _can’t_ put our friendship first,” he said. “I’m responsible for this damned Kingdom, first and foremost. Vanyel would understand that.”

“On an intellectual level, sure. On an emotional level – well, from his point of view, Yfandes walked out and then all his friends abandoned him. Except Savil, but it’s not like she even made time to see him today.” 

Savil had been just as busy this afternoon as any of them, but Shavri was starting to wonder if she wasn’t volunteering herself on purpose to avoid having to go back to her suite. She had offered to take on a couple of meetings that she would normally have gone to great lengths to wriggle out of.

Savil was so close with Vanyel – it had to hurt, trying to reconcile the nephew she thought she knew with the secret he had kept from her for so long.

“It’s not the first time I’ve ordered him to go under Truth Spell,” Randi pointed out. “He handled the trial fine.”

 _That’s what you think._ Shavri remembered how he had pushed her away – literally, with a wall of magic. Randi hadn’t been there, and she hadn’t talked to him about it, or about any of her later conversations with Van; it had felt private.

“First of all, he really didn’t. Just because he didn’t tell _you_ how upset he was…” Melody’s hand rose to smooth down her robes. “And this is different. He’s incredibly vulnerable, right now.”

“But you can help him, right?” Randi’s voice was almost plaintive. “If I say the wrong thing and make it worse, you can put him back together.”

“Assuming his Yfandes comes back at some point, probably.” Melody shook her head, irritably, as though dissuading flies. “But he’s not just going to be fine. He may never get over this entirely. And, well, all he has to hang onto right now is believing that Valdemar needs him – that you need him. That it’s worth trying to get through this, because his life matters to the future. If anything makes him start to think that his Kingdom and his King might not even want him anymore…”

“Gods! No!” Randi’s voice burst out. “That’s – that’s not what I meant at all. Of course we still need him. I wouldn’t – I don’t know what you’re thinking, but no matter what, I’m not going to do anything like exile him over this. He is still my friend.”

“You could have fooled me.” A moment later, Melody lowered her eyes, and folded her hands together. “I’m sorry. That was uncharitable. I know this is stressful, and it’s hard to be your best self.” A pause. “I suppose I do understand why you feel you need to do this. I just want to make sure you understand the risks.”

“I think I do, now.” Randi’s eyes were fixed on the wall, and suspiciously wet, but his voice was clear. “I’ll be responsible for putting him through something painful and traumatic, when he’s already having a miserable time of it. It will damage our friendship, understandably. He may need weeks or months longer to recover from this, even if Yfandes comes back.” A pause. “I still think it’s worth it.”

“Then I suppose I can’t stop you.” Melody didn’t seem happy. “We can plan on tomorrow, but I do want a chance to see him first, and delay if I think he isn’t stable enough.”

Shavri closed her eyes, breathing through the sudden ache in her chest. _Damn it, Melody, it was your job to protect him._

Without opening her eyes, she forced her lips to move. “I want to register that I disagree with this plan.” Her voice came out flat and distant. “I don’t think it’s going to change our plans enough to justify hurting Vanyel any more. But it’s not my place to overrule you.”

Randi’s mind brushed her shields, and she let him through, with some reluctance. _:I’m sorry, love:_ he sent, heavy and tired. _:Objection noted. You don’t have to be there:_

She answered out loud, firmly. “I’m going to be there.” Randi needed her, and so did Vanyel – and she didn’t know how she could support both of them at once, how she could hold together that contradiction, but she would try. She swallowed hard. “And I want to spend some time with him tonight. If you think that’s all right, Melody.” She was so far from ready, but Melody made a good point – of _course_ it would feel to Vanyel as though all of his friends were turning their backs.

“If you feel up for it, I think that’s a very good idea.” There was a hint of real warmth in Melody’s voice. “He’s probably still awake, after that long nap. If you wanted to speak with me first, get your head in order…”

“Please.” Shavri hadn’t wanted to ask – Melody had to be feeling incredibly stretched.

Randi pushed back his chair and stood, not waiting for Shavri’s help. He retrieved his cane from where it leaned against the table. “I’m going to bed.”

She ought to go with him. He was dealing with so much – but she couldn’t bear the thought of it. _I can’t be around him right now._ “Goodnight,” she said dully.

The door closed behind his back.

“So?” Melody said gently. “What’s on your mind?”

Shavri, somewhat to her surprise, felt a sob rising in her throat, as the tears she hadn’t realized she had been fighting back spilled over.

“Hey, hey.” Melody stood, moved around the table, and took the chair next to her, laying a hand over hers.

After a minute or so, Shavri sniffled, dug for her handkerchief, mopped at her eyes. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Don’t be.” There was no judgement in Melody’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. _I don’t even know where to start._ “I’m scared,” she said dully. “I don’t know how we’ll get through this.”

“You will.” Melody’s fingers tightened over hers. “This will pass.”

The immediate emergency, sure. They would keep going, because they had no choice, and it probably would get easier to bear with time. _You can get used to anything._

But Leareth would still be out there.

And there was a more nebulous threat creeping into her awareness – an internal one. Not just her current anger with Randi, though it felt related to that. She had trouble naming exactly what was wrong.

Melody sat down next to her. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Shavri. It’ll help just to say it out loud.”

“…Everyone’s angry with each other.” That wasn’t, quite, the heart of it. “And no one’s talking about it.” That felt closer. “I don’t know. Feels like stumbling around in the dark. There’s this tension under the surface, and we’re all trying to keep it in but it makes everything so exhausting.” She lifted her head. “Sorry. I’m explaining it badly. Don’t know why that’s bothering me more than all the real problems.”

“It makes a lot of sense.” Melody’s voice was as cool and level as always. “This was a blow. To your trust in Vanyel, and in the Companions. And each other. With the secrecy as well – I understand why Rolan wants it that way, I think, but it does make it harder. Fewer places to go, to unpack all the very understandable feelings that this is bringing up. Needing to keep it bottled up.”

As usual, Melody had put words to it better than she could have. “It’s awful,” she said, pushing the words through the tightness in her throat. “I hate it. It feels like we’re five minutes away from falling apart.”

“I know. It’s especially hard for you because you’re a Healer, and a bit of a Receptive Empath; you’re sensitive to people being upset nearby.” Melody released her hand, and patted her shoulder. “You’re also very, very good at supporting the people around you, and it’s the role everyone expects of you. You’re feeling the burden of that.”

“I can manage it right now.” But her eyes were burning again. “Melody, I–” her voice cracked, betraying her, “I c-can’t carry this forever.” _And I don’t see any end in sight._

Sympathy flickered in Melody’s eyes before they flashed to the window, her hands moving swiftly and confidently as she poured hot water into the teapot. “I know it feels that way. It will end.” One corner of her mouth tugged sideways in a sad, bitter not-smile. “You’re upset with Vanyel.”

“I’m not–”

Melody, who so rarely interrupted, went on as though Shavri hadn’t spoken. “Understandably. And you can’t say it to his face, yet, and that makes it hard to even think about seeing him and _not_ saying it. Shavri, listen – I know how close a friend he is. You’ve lost a supporting pillar just at the time you need it most. It’s all right to resent that. And to resent that you need to keep it to yourself – that there’s no space to air your own emotions, right now.” A pause. “You could write it down, if that helps – write a letter, imagining that you’re going to give it to Van, and then hold onto it. There will be a chance to clear the air, later, once he’s a little more stable.”

Shavri nodded, shivering. Melody was probably right; she usually was. And yet. _I can’t see how to get from here to there._

“Shavri, why don’t we talk about something else now?” Melody sat back in her chair. “You’re allowed to think about other things. Have a conversation with a friend, for a few minutes.”

Shavri started to protest, then closed her mouth. It seemed like the closest Melody would ever come to saying that _she_ wanted to change the subject. “Of course,” she said lightly. And then stopped, her mind blank, because she didn’t have the faintest idea what else there could be to talk about.

Melody rescued her. “I heard from Gemma they’re putting an extension onto the student wing at Healers’.”

“Oh.” Shavri couldn’t muster any excitement. “That’s good.” _Gods, I miss teaching._ Even two years ago, she had still been going in for the occasional guest-lesson, but not since Randi’s illness had worsened enough that he needed her just to get through audiences and meetings.

Melody must have sensed her reaction. “Speaking of students,” she said cheerfully, “it sounds like I might get another one. Youngster from Kannaboro. Terrill tested him. He’s a bit older than Jisa, fifteen, and it sounds like it took his village a while to recognize his Gift at all, so likely he’s developed some bad habits.”

Shavri nodded along, half-listening, sipping her tea.

“I’m writing up some of the curriculum,” Melody went on. “Finally. Well, by ‘writing’, I mean that half of it I’m giving to Jisa as homework. She writes quite well.”

“Does she?” Shavri said vaguely.

“Yes. She’s a prodigy, you must know that. If she were a little older, and other circumstances were different, I would pull her in for the current situation. She’s much better at certain types of work than I am. Natural talent.” Her eyes turned sideways to Shavri, a knowing glance, and she switched to Mindspeech. _:Not surprising, given who her parents are:_

“Oh.” Shavri looked down at her cup. _:You found out when you were reading Van?:_

 _:Yes:_ A hint of embarrassment. _:I tried not to pry too much at the content of his memories, but it was relevant for what I was doing. And, well, it would be hard to miss that particular thing. He loves her to pieces, you know:_

 _:I know:_ Shavri closed her eyes. Remembered Jisa looking up at her, fear and frustration in her eyes. _It’s about Uncle Van, isn’t it? I wish you trusted me._

It had to seem awfully unfair, from Jisa’s perspective. She could remember being that age, wishing the adults around her would only take her seriously for once. And yet. Jisa _was_ still a child. It would be even less fair to put this on her.

* * *

Stef lay on his back, sideways on the bed with his legs propped up on the wall and his head hanging backwards over the edge, holding his history notes upside-down – well, it was right-side-up for him. There was a test tomorrow and he hadn’t studied enough, because yesterday he had been busy showing Jisa around.

Medren still wasn’t home. He had missed all of their afternoon classes. Eventually, Stef had succumbed to curiosity and gone to knock on Breda’s door, hoping to beg some answers out of her. He had assumed his roommate was in trouble, but what if it wasn’t that? Maybe something had happened to his mother. Hells, maybe his great-aunt, Herald-Mage Savil, was ill or something – she was certainly elderly.

Or maybe it was related to what Jisa had mentioned, before, and something really was wrong with Herald Vanyel.

Breda had gotten an odd look on her face, when he asked, and it wasn’t just the squint from one of her headaches. _You’re a good friend,_ she had said, with real warmth. _Your concern does you credit. Don’t you worry about Medren. I’ve sent him off on a sort of assignment._

Which sounded more like he was in trouble, though Stef couldn’t think what kind or why. Medren didn’t have a rulebreaking bone in his body.

In any case, his roommate had been gone since lunchtime, and now it was past suppertime. Not like Medren, to miss a meal – he was growing like a weed, damn him, and he seemed to eat constantly. _I wish he’d share some of those inches with me._

As though thinking of his friend had summoned him, the door creaked open, bringing with it a blast of chillier air from the hallway.

“Hey!” Stef muttered. “Don’t let all the heat out!” They had a tiny fireplace for their room, and Breda made a sarcastic remark every time he went to her begging for extra firewood above their usual allotment, but she let him have it. She knew the cold got to him.

“Sorry.” Medren shut the door, and then pulled off his cloak and shook it out. His voice was flat, and he moved slowly, but he managed a smile. “Stef, why can you never sit at a desk like a normal person?”

Stef ignored the comment. “Breda must’ve really had it out for you. Six candlemarks?”

“Guess I earned it.” Medren’s eyes had already drifted past him to his bed, longingly. “Ooh. I’m beat.”

“What did you _do_?” Stef said curiously; he wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your business.”

Yes, that was about the level of embarrassment and defensiveness he had expected Medren to have around getting in trouble. “Test tomorrow,” Stef reminded him. “History, remember?”

“Too tired.” Medren yanked off his boots, shaking snow onto the rug, and then made for his bed and collapsed on top of the covers.

Stef narrowed his eyes. There was tired, and then there was this. Not just heavy, but drained. _You’ve been using your Gift_. Not exactly a usual punishment.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t illicit – it had come from Breda. Was she the one who had told him not to talk about it? Interesting.

But not his business, Stef reminded himself. Medren tended to get very snippy about him prying. It wasn’t worth the fight.

“Did you miss supper?” he said. “I could get you something from the kitchens…” For which he could extract other favours for days; it would be more than worth the effort.

“Had supper.” Medren looked almost smug for a moment, before he saw Stef looking and quickly smoothed his expression.

“All right.” Stef lowered his legs, and swung himself around until he was lying normally on the bed. “Hey, don’t go to sleep in your clothes.”

“Shut up,” Medren mumbled.

“Suit yourself.” Stef went back to reading over his notes.

Eventually, Medren did flop over, sit up, and start pulling off his clothes and throwing them onto the floor. Since they stayed on his side of the invisible line in the center, Stef didn’t say anything. Minutes later, his roommate was snoring under the covers.

Stef was tempted to do the same, but he really did want to do well, and something like History wasn’t effortless for him, not the way music was. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t been paying very much attention in their History class this year. Mostly because of the teacher. Bard Corey was young – well, young for a teacher, he was in his early twenties – and he was _dreamy._ If he wasn’t shaych he was at least flexible. Stef had heard rumours.

And yet he wouldn’t flirt back, damn it. Medren had rolled his eyes, when Stef complained, and said it was because he had Ethics.


	7. Chapter Seven

Jisa finally made it to the end of the hall, and the curtained nook that no one really used. Panting, she ducked into the opening.

She hadn’t _meant_ to eavesdrop. Really. Mama wouldn’t believe that, though, and she didn’t want to get in trouble for accidentally overhearing something that she had very quickly realized was private.

She had been walking back to Mama’s room and, to her surprise, ran into Papa, who had looked very tired and distracted and like he was trying to hide that he was upset, but had stopped to hug her anyway. And then something had made her stop outside the door, shields raised, and that was when she had heard Melody’s voice.

 _You’re upset with Vanyel_.

Mama had mumbled something that Jisa hadn’t been able to hear, but it had definitely been her, and then Melody had answered, and Jisa was as confused as she had ever been.

 _Understandably,_ Melody had said. _You can’t say it to his face, yet, and that makes it hard to even think about seeing him and not saying it. Shavri, listen – I know how close a friend he is. You’ve lost a supporting pillar just at the time you need it most. It’s all right to resent that._

_There will be a chance to clear the air, later, once he’s a little more stable._

That was all she had heard before Melody changed the subject, but it was enough. Jisa had known, or guessed, there was something wrong with Uncle Van. She felt guilty about listening in, but Mama wouldn’t tell her anything, and it wasn’t fair. _I’m not a little girl anymore._ Mama ought to trust her, and she didn’t.

Well, she wasn’t stupid either. She knew that she was very clever; Melody said so, and a lot more people thought it loudly enough that she couldn’t help overhearing. She could figure things out on her own even if no grownup thought she was old enough for them to tell her.

What did she know already?

There was a Problem. It wasn’t just that her parents were so busy; they were very upset as well.

Uncle Van hadn’t come to supper, last night, and he hadn’t even sent a note. Usually, if he needed to cancel, he would send a message specially to her, on nice paper with his seal on it. It made her feel special, which was probably why he did it. This time, Mama had just said that he wasn’t coming, and her face had been all tight and twisted.

Melody was busy as well. She had cancelled their lessons two days in a row, and when Jisa had sneaked over to Healers’ earlier, her office had been empty.

Maybe that wasn’t a coincidence. Jisa knew that Uncle Van had problems – the sorts of problems that needed a Mindhealer. Probably she wasn’t supposed to know as much as she did, but it was hard not to notice. It wasn’t even close to Sovvan, though, and that didn’t explain what she had just overheard.

Uncle Van had done something to hurt Mama’s feelings – something bad, she had been able to tell from Melody’s voice, even without her Empathy extended, that her teacher thought so. Enough that apparently Mama felt like she couldn’t talk to him, at a time when she ‘needed it most’.

Melody was very worried.

 _I don’t understand._ It felt different from anything else that had happened before. There were other times that Mama and Papa had been very busy, other times they had been stressed, but not like this.

She was scared. If Uncle Van was in trouble, she wanted to know, and help if she could.

She didn’t know who she could ask.

 _Come back anytime,_ Stef had said to her. Jisa liked Stef. He had treated her like a person, a smart person, not just a child.

He was clever, too. He liked to brag, and to hear the sound of his own voice, but that was all right. It was something boys did, to show off, and it meant she had heard lots of interesting stories. Most of them had even been true; it was a knack Jisa had, that she could usually tell when someone was lying. If not for that, she would have thought he _had_ to be lying, that he and Medren had been the ones to catch Lord Taving. _I hear things,_ Stef had said, with a sly little smile, when she expressed disbelief. _All sorts of things._

If he’d wanted to impress her, he had certainly succeeded.

By ‘come back anytime’, he probably hadn’t meant late at night – but suddenly she desperately, frantically wanted to talk to someone. Anyone. Before now, she would have thought she could always go to Mama or Papa or Melody or Beri, but…not about this.

Mama was clearly very distracted, and it sounded like she was about to go out somewhere. She wouldn’t notice if Jisa didn’t come home until very late; she would assume she was with Beri.

Over at Bardic, Stef had showed her which drain-pipe he used to sneak in and out of his room at night. It had all seemed very grown-up and adventurous to her, late-night secret parties with music and stolen wine and people _kissing_. The kissing part was a little icky, but it was glamorous as well. Mama wouldn’t approve, of course, and that almost made it more exciting.

It was a long walk to Bardic. She was glad that she was already wearing her warm cloak and mittens.

* * *

The distant knock startled him, and Vanyel reflexively poured power into his shields, lightning crackling at his fingertips as he raised his hands.

“–Van, hey.” Lissa set down the book she had been reading to him, and reached to take his wrists, gently lowering them to his lap. Her grip was steady, and there was no sign of fear in her face. _Even though I could blast her with a thought._ It was a long time since he had really worried about control, but he still felt off, ever since Melody had removed the block – it felt like about a century ago.

Lissa looked into his eyes, worried. “Van, I’ll go see who it is, and I’ll ask you before I let them in. All right?”

Still trembling, Vanyel managed to nod. _I hate this._ His heart was hammering again, guts churning uneasily, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. It took very little, right now, to bring him to the edge of panic – the fear was already there, under the surface, no matter how hard he tried to keep it at bay.

 _Center and ground._ Breathe. Some of the desperate singing tension in his chest subsided, a wave falling back from the shore, leaving him dizzy and sick. He put his head down between his knees, hoping he wasn’t about to lose his supper.

“Van?” Lissa’s voice. “Van, are you all right?” He felt her hand on his back. “You’re shaking. Are you cold? I’ll put more wood on the fire.”

He was, but it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Only the ice in the back of his mind, chilling him through even as Melody’s redirects kept him from staring at it head-on. _‘Fandes._

Lissa tugged a blanket over his shoulders. “There.” A pause. “It’s Shavri. Do you want to see her?”

Shavri. He hadn’t seen her at all since that night. Why was she here now – to shout at him? Blame him for the mess he had dropped on them? He was afraid, but he wanted to see her, gods, he craved just one more familiar face. He couldn’t speak through the sob that tried to rise in his throat, but he lifted his head, nodding mutely.

“I’ll go invite her in and get her some tea, then.” Lissa bent to kiss his forehead. “You just stay here.”

Her footsteps moved away, and then he heard the creak of the door. Murmured voices. He was still fighting to get his breathing under control when the soft voice called to him.

“Van?”

He lifted his head again. Shavri stood in the doorway, the candlelight flickering across her features. She looked tired, and her eyes were puffy; she had been crying. But she was smiling now, or at least he thought that was the expression she was trying for. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, Van.” She crossed the room, and stopped at the foot of the bed. “I – can I…” She trailed off, blinking, and reached to smooth down her curls. “Just wanted to see you,” she said. “I’m sorry. That things are so hard.”

Her pity made it worse. Vanyel felt fresh tears sprout in his eyes, and ducked his head.

“Van?” A breath, in and out. “Do you want me to stay for a bit, or leave?”

“Stay.” He could barely force out that one word, and he couldn’t meet her eyes, but he lifted a hand, reaching vaguely in her direction.

He felt the bed shift as she sat, and then her fingers around his, cool and dry. Felt her reaching out with her Healing-Gift, offering something – and when he accepted it, his pulse immediately slowed.

He sagged against her, suddenly more exhausted than words could describe. Shavri made a soft sound, and slipped her arms around him. Too drained to cry, he let his head rest on her shoulder. He still hurt, but it felt like he could breathe properly again, for the first time in days.

“Shh, hey. That’s it. Just relax.” Shavri stroked his hair. “You must be so tired. And you’re shivering. Why don’t you lie down?”

He let her ease him down onto the pillows, and pull two layers of blankets over him, all without letting go of his hand.

“Are you sleepy?” he heard her say.

He shook his head without trying to open his eyes; his eyelids felt as heavy as rocks, but he didn’t want to sleep yet. Didn’t feel ready to brave the inevitable nightmares – and, besides, Shavri would surely leave once he fell asleep, and he wanted her to stay.

“Mmm.” A brief silence. “I can read to you. Would you like that?”

He nodded. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was something.

* * *

Candlemarks had gone by, and Stef had lost track of time, deep into composing a new song – until there was a rapping on the window. Stef twitched, but assumed it must have been the wind, until it came again. Louder.

Under the covers, Medren stirred, mumbling. “Hellfires, Stef, stop–”

“That wasn’t me!” Stef flung down his notes and stood, balancing on the mattress, reaching for the top of his wardrobe. “I don’t–”

He froze.

Behind the frost-patterned glass, a familiar small, stubborn face stared at him, mostly in shadow, framed by a fur-lined hood.

“Jisa?”

“What?” Medren said behind him, voice still sleep-blurred.

Stef clambered on top of his wardrobe and reached to unlatch and open the window. It opened outwards – which meant she was going to need to move, damn it. He gestured as firmly as he could, mouthing instructions, and was gratified when she obeyed.

He opened the window, and Jisa swarmed through, nearly knocking him over. “Oof!” she hissed. She rubbed her hands together, then shoved them under her armpits. “Ow! That was _hard_. And it’s cold! I brought mittens but they were too slippy.”

She was remembering to keep her voice down, at least; he had mentioned the Bardic curfew to her, and Breda’s wrath with anyone who broke it.

Stef was extremely grateful that she hadn’t fallen and broken her neck. When he had shown her the drainpipe, proudly, he hadn’t expected her to actually _use_ it, let alone in the middle of the night.

“Jisa,” Stef said, very calmly. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“You’re serious.” Behind him, Medren sounded fully awake now. “It really is Jisa. I don’t–”

“My Uncle Van’s in trouble!” Jisa interrupted, still quietly, but with urgency. “Something’s wrong.”

 _Herald Vanyel._ A sliver of alarm crept through his chest.

“No one wants to tell me anything,” Jisa went on. Then she met his eyes, hopefully. The sort of pleading, big-eyed look it was very hard to ignore, even from a child who clearly knew exactly what she was doing with it. Stef ought to know – he had perfected his own beseeching looks years ago, though they didn’t work as well now that he was older. “Stef, you’re good at finding things out…”

Medren made a sound that might have been a muffled squeak.

Stef spun around. “That’s your Uncle Van too. Did you–” He cut off, jaw clicking shut. Breda taking Medren aside. Mystery punishment. Medren hadn’t really seemed guilty, like he would be if he had really broken a rule – but shaken, and worried for sure.

“You know something,” he accused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stef sighed, and slid down onto his bed. “Jisa, come down from there, I’ll catch you. Medren, you’re an awful liar. Where were you really this afternoon?”

Jisa ignored his outstretched arms and hopped down by herself, spraying bits of snow onto his covers. She blew on her hands, wincing.

“None of your business,” Medren said, chin tucked in.

Which meant it was related. “Medren,” Stef said, silkily, “you heard her. There’s a _problem_.” And Jisa thought he could solve it for her. Stef had no intention of letting her down.

Medren said nothing, only sat with his arms folded.

Stef, wincing, tried to brush the snow from his bed before it melted. “Jisa, why do you think something’s wrong?” Start there.

She had pulled off her boots and thrown them onto the floor, and then started shaking out her cloak. “My papa’s busy and upset, like there’s an emergency. I haven’t seen Uncle Van, but… I asked Mama in Mindspeech, so she couldn’t lie. It’s about him, and she was scared. I overheard something later too – Mama’s upset with him. And Melody said he wasn’t stable.” She picked at a scab on her wrist. “Melody keeps cancelling my lessons as well, so I think she must be busy trying to help him.”

Huh. Stef pressed his hands together and stretched his wrists and fingers, trying to think. Hold the pieces of it up in his mind, seeing how they fit together. The answer was, they didn’t. At all.

Start with one piece at a time, then. “Maybe he’s ill?” he suggested. That would explain scared, and maybe why everyone was so busy, if they were covering his work – but not what Jisa’s mother would be upset with Vanyel. Unless he was injured because he had done something that they thought was being stupid…

Behind him, Medren sighed. “Stef,” he said, his voice tight. “Don’t. Let it be.”

Stef spun around. “You _do_ know something.”

“Not really.” Medren squirmed. “I… Stef, if I tell you, you need to _promise_ that you won’t go poking around. This is private.”

Which only made it juicier, but Stef sighed, and shot Jisa an apologetic look. “I promise.”

Medren laid his hands down flat on the bed, palms pressing into the covers. “My great-aunt Savil asked me to keep Uncle Van company today, because he’s…having a bad time. She didn’t say why and I didn’t ask. He’s very private, and it’s not my business. Or yours.” He rubbed his eyes. “Melody, you said? There was a Healer called Melody who was there.”

“She’s a Mindhealer,” Jisa said. “Like me.”

“Oh.” Medren shook his head, less like he was answering ‘no’ to a question, more like driving away flies. “That makes more sense. I think.” He stared vaguely at his hand for a moment. “Jisa, since when are you a Mindhealer?”

Stef rolled his eyes. _I thought everyone knew that_. It was one of the pieces of gossip that had circulated a few years back, along with murmurs that Jisa would have been well-suited to be the next Monarch’s Own if not for the fact that there was already a very youthful King’s Own in training. Jisa hadn’t talked much about it, the day before, although they had discussed the similarities and differences between his Bardic Gift and her Projective Empathy.

Jisa was pouting, and Stef could feel the tension winding up in her. A moment later, it burst out. “It’s not fair! How come Savil let Medren help but not me?” She folded her arms across her chest, huffing.

 _Because Medren’s sixteen and you’re not quite eleven,_ Stef thought, but had the tact not to say out loud. He doubted he would have felt any better about it in her place.

“I’m sorry,” Medren said. “I can see why it would hurt your feelings. Maybe it’s because you’re a Receptive Empath? I’m not, so I don’t know, but Uncle Van seems really upset and maybe it’d be hard for you to be around him.”

“That’s supposed to be my _job!”_ An angry flush was spreading across Jisa’s cheeks. “I know how to shield!” She kicked her feet. “I’m not a baby. Why can’t they trust me?” Towards the end, her voice grew choked, and her eyes were suspiciously shiny.

Stef, tentatively, reached for her shoulder. He tried to think of something to say, but Medren jumped in first. “Jisa, I think your mama and papa are trying to protect you. Not because they think you’re too little, just because they love you and don’t want you to have to worry as well.”

Jisa looked dubious.

Medren sighed. “But it’s clearly not working, because you _are_ worried. Hmm. Another reason they might not be telling you is if it’s something secret. Herald business. _I_ know you’re old enough to keep a secret, but…well, I think our parents are always a bit behind on that. Thinking we’re younger than we are.” He hesitated. “And maybe it is best to let them keep that secret. None of us are Heralds.”

It was exactly what Medren would say, Stef thought, and it was infuriating.

Jisa sniffled, and said nothing.

“You could offer to keep Uncle Van company tomorrow?” Medren suggested. “If you tell your mama that you don’t need to know everything and you won’t pry, but you want to be helpful.”

Jisa frowned, but finally nodded. “I could do that.”

Medren turned his eyes on Stef. “Stef… _Please_ don’t go chasing rumours right now. It’s disrespectful to Uncle Van, and you respect him, right?”

Damn. Medren knew exactly how to guilt-trip him. “Fine,” Stef snapped. “This time.”

* * *

It was late, and Dara was starting to feel very tired, but Herald Tantras was still working and she had no intention of going to bed before he did. They were both in the office of the King’s Own; she had been there all afternoon, Rolan had said he would pass on her apologies to her teachers that she was missing classes today and possibly for the rest of the the week. That made Dara feel good, even though there was nothing good about the situation – she was finally doing real, useful work. The meeting with the fur-trade representatives from the east had been terrifying, but Rolan said she had done well. He was proud of her, and the warmth of that had stayed with her all day.

Tantras had barely spoken to her in candlemarks. She wasn’t sure if he was angry with her, or just angry in general, and she had felt too nervous to ask. It was getting more and more awkward to sit in silence, though.

And she had the unpleasant feeling that she didn’t at all understand what was happening around her – that there were currents below the surface, out of sight. She wasn’t the King’s Own yet, but still, someday it was supposed to be her job to keep track of problems within the Heraldic Circle. And she felt stuck, not knowing.

 _:Rolan?:_ she sent, tentatively.

_:Yes, Chosen?:_

Often he was listening in the back of her mind, and guessed at her questions, but apparently he was still too distracted. _:I’m worried I did something to make Herald Tantras angry with me:_

Rolan sent a wash of reassurance. _:I do not think so. I expect he is merely frustrated about our situation:_ A pause. _:You might ask:_

_:Wouldn’t that be rude?:_

_:He may wish for a listening ear:_ Rolan sent.

Well, if Rolan thought it was a good idea… Dara squared her shoulders, gathering up her courage. “Herald Tantras?” she said cautiously.

His head twitched, but didn’t lift. “Yes, Dara?”

She swallowed hard. “…Is something bothering you?”

He snorted. “You have to ask?”

Dara tried not to feel hurt. “Yes, actually. I don’t know what’s wrong and I want to help.”

Turning towards her, his expression softened. “Oh. I hadn’t thought… Of course, Randi threw you right into the middle of this.”

Dara nodded, watching him expectantly.

Tantras sighed. “Seems my Delian thinks it would do me good to get it off my chest. If you won’t be too bored listening to an old man complain.”

“I don’t think you’re old.” Dara tried to keep her expression from looking too hopeful. “Or boring.”

Tantras shook his head. “Well. For one, sounds like Randi is finally going to question Vanyel under Truth Spell, which he should have done right away, but he’s decided I shouldn’t be there for it.” A pause. “Or you, but I imagine you’ll be relieved about that.”

Dara bobbed her head in immediate agreement. She had been apprehensive all day that Randi would want her to take notes or something, but it had sounded unbearably awkward.

Tantras smiled slightly. “It would be rather overwhelming for you, I imagine. And you know your limits. But I’m _not_ a trainee. I was Randi’s King’s Own for four years. I think I’ve earned the right to be there.”

His voice had gone stiff towards the end. “Why do you think Randi doesn’t want you there?” Dara said, curiously.

“Probably because Melody vetoed it.” Tantras shrugged. “Can’t blame her for trying to do her job – she’s looking out for him. Things have been…tense, between Vanyel and I. She’s right, having me there would upset him.” A grimace. “She’s doing her job, but Randi needs to do his, damn it! He shouldn’t be trying to protect Van, right now.” 

Dara couldn’t figure out what difference it made, whether Tantras was there or not – he could just learn about it afterwards. “Don’t you trust Randi?” she said, only realizing a moment later that it might come across as very offensive. She lifted a hand to her mouth. “Sorry–”

“Don’t be.” Tantras shook his head again. “I know what you mean. And, yes. With my life. But he’sonly one man – he can’t be expected to think of everything, or be completely unbiased. Vanyel was one of his best friends. Of course that’s going to influence his thinking.”

Dara hadn’t thought of it that way. “Oh.” It made sense, she supposed – she tried to imagine having to interrogate, say, Kerrill, and it gave her a funny, tight feeling in her head. “What about Savil?” she said.

Tantras made an irritated sound. “Savil is even more biased,” he said tightly. “And of course, Randi wants _her_ there.”

Dara shifted her weight in the chair. “I think Savil is pretty angry with him as well–”

“Of course. But for completely the wrong reasons.” Tantras made a face. “She’s hurt that he didn’t tell her. Which, I get it, but it really isn’t the biggest thing wrong with what he did. And she’s completely shutting down when it comes to making any kind of plans. I was trying to work with her earlier, going over the notes from Circle meetings where Vanyel gave advice, and it was like pulling teeth.”

Dara had noticed on her own that Savil had seemed very closed-down in all of the meetings.

Tantras seemed to be closing into himself as well, starting to turn away from her. Keep him talking, Dara thought. She still didn’t really understand why he was so angry. “You think Vanyel was wrong to listen to Taver and keep talking to Leareth?”

“For one, we have no proof that Taver really said that.” Tantras’ hands twisted together on the table. “And, yes. I think there’s a very important sense in which Vanyel betrayed the Kingdom. Even if he really was trying his best to do the right thing, and it’s not his fault he was in over his head. He’s been thoroughly indoctrinated at this point – a dark mage wants to sacrifice ten million lives in some madman’s plan, and all Vanyel can think is that he’s not sure he’s wrong?”

Dara squirmed. Tantras, as far as she knew, hadn’t read any of Vanyel’s notes himself, only her summary, which she had tried to keep as dry and objective as possible. What would he say, if she told him she had found some of Leareth’s points very sympathetic?

There were children starving in the Kingdom. And the Heralds weren’t preventing it. Oh, they did what they could – guarding roads from bandits so that trade could move through, securing the borders against attacks, weather-magic to support the harvests – but it wasn’t enough. There just weren’t enough Heralds, and certainly not enough mages.

And Leareth had pointed that out, in one of the many, many conversations – that the Companion herd seemed to stay at a fairly fixed size, between one and two hundred. _Heralds one in five thousand of population,_ Vanyel had written. _No attempt to increase number of Gifted._ Which hadn’t ever occurred to Dara as a thing you could do, but the same conversation-notes had mentioned the bizarre idea of breeding mages, like one could breed horses or pigeons. Apparently the Eastern Empire had done exactly that.

Dara had studied the Empire in her history classes and special tutoring, what little was known about it, and oddly, it made more sense to her now, knowing that Leareth claimed to have founded it.

Either way, maybe no Herald had ever thought about the problem with Heralds not having children – why had she never noticed that it was exactly like the problem where the Guard tended to lose the best warhorse-lines disproportionately in wartime, she had literally read about that – but surely the Groveborn Companions at least could have thought of it. And even without that, there was a theory that Companions could awaken potential in their Heralds. There were already a lot more people with potential Gifts than active ones, and surely not _all_ of them were such bad people that even with a Companion to help they would make terrible Heralds.

She even knew other trainees with mage-gift in potential, like Katri. Why hadn’t her Companion tried to awaken that Gift?

Dara pulled herself back to the moment. Tantras didn’t appear to have noticed her woolgathering; he was staring past her, jaw set.

“It does seem pretty bad.” That much, she could say honestly – maybe Leareth had a point, that the Companions didn’t seem to be _really_ trying, but maybe they had a good reason, and it certainly didn’t justify trying to kill ten million people to make a new god instead, especially since that seemed like the sort of plan that could go horrifyingly wrong.

“It’s unforgivable,” Tantras said flatly. “I don’t think we can trust anything Vanyel says, at this point.” He groaned. “Which means I haven’t got the faintest idea what we’re going to do. There’s a war coming, and we were counting on him, damn it!”

“Maybe we can bring him back to our side, now that he isn’t talking to Leareth anymore?” That seemed like one hopeful sign to Dara. Vanyel had actually _asked_ for his Foresight to be blocked.

“Maybe.” But Tantras didn’t sound hopeful. “I mean… He’s used blood-power. We _know_ that’s corrupting. Even if it wasn’t too late before, I think it may have been too late ever since Sunhame. Damn it! We should have known.”

He looked so ashamed of himself. It made Dara’s throat ache. “Herald Tantras?” she said. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have guessed.”

“I suppose not. It’s so bizarre.” Tantras tugged at his hair. “Still. We should have known _something_ was wrong. I mean, I did know. Just – I couldn’t get it straight in my head, at the time. He had us convinced the Kingdom would’ve been worse off, if we’d lost him and Savil in the battle, but, damn it, that doesn’t condone it.”

Dara nodded, sympathetically, even though she was thinking that Vanyel had had an awfully good point. And it wasn’t like he had killed Valdemaran soldiers.

Tantras had lifted both hands to his temples, like he had a headache. “This is the last thing we need.” He lifted his eyes to hers, almost apologetic. “I don’t mean to offend you, but…I’m not sure what I think of how Rolan’s handling it, either.”

Dara blinked. There was no retort from Rolan, though, so he must not have been listening. “How so?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“All the secrecy.” Tantras slumped forward until his elbows were resting on the desk, head bent. “I had to meet with Joshel and Keiran today and neither of them knows a thing. I mean, they know something is going on, there’s got to be rumours going around, but Randi ordered me not to tell them any details. Seems like a bad plan, in the long run.”

Dara was feeling a bit defensive on Rolan’s behalf. She forced her shoulders to relax. “I think he’s just worried about too many cooks in the kitchen.”

“It would be complicated, that’s true.” Tantras sighed. “Maybe it’s the best he can do with a bad situation. Damn it, Vanyel! This is the last thing we needed.”

It must have been very stressful for him. More than it was for her – Dara knew she was too busy keeping up to have very many feelings about it yet. The thought of a coming war was scary, but it still seemed far away.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Tantras reached out and patted her shoulder. “Thank you for listening, Dara. You’re a good kid.” He glanced around. “Why don’t you go to bed? It’s late, and there’s really nothing more that absolutely has to get done tonight.”

It was a clear dismissal. Dara scraped her chair back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Savil finally gave in to the urge to rest her forehead on the stone table that held the Web-focus. She had no excuse to be here so late; she had finished the roadwork to the west a candlemark ago, and since then had been poking around at random, dealing with minor alerts. She had even flushed out a pack of some kind of Changecreatures in the northwest, and flattened them with levinbolts – no need for delicate control, they were still a dozen miles from the nearest town. She was feeling rather smug about it.

But it _wasn’t_ a good use of her time. She still had a stack of Circle meeting-minutes to read over before she met with Tran again, and Randi had asked her to make a list of questions she thought they ought to ask Vanyel. Both of those things were almost impossible to think about; when she tried, it was like a cloud of black smog rose within her.

_Ke’chara, why?_

Melody had discreetly taken her aside after the first, earlier meeting, given an update on Vanyel’s condition that she hadn’t particularly wanted, and asked when she would be able to go by and see him. Savil had made some kind of excuse and bolted off to her next meeting.

She ought to go to him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of it right now. Having to see him in pain, knowing what Randi was going to put him through tomorrow, knowing that there was nothing she could do to shelter him from it. _I can’t._

She wasn’t sure what Randi hoped to accomplish with another interrogation. They could confirm some facts, or at least come closer to certainty, but she wasn’t sure anyone was really doubting Vanyel’s words anymore.

Randi said that he wanted to find out what Vanyel had told Leareth, and which of Valdemar’s new policies were based on the man’s advice, but Savil didn’t think that was his real question. _He wants to know if we can trust him._

Which felt impossible to measure. What was trust, really? It had felt clear to her as a concept before, but now it was like staring into fog – and if she looked down, if she saw the abyss under her feet, she would start falling and never stop.

 _Can I trust you, ke’chara?_ The answer seemed like it clearly ought to be ‘no’, and there was a desperate contradiction there. She had made a promise to him.

She didn’t know how to keep that promise anymore.

Van wasn’t the only person she owed something to. Savil had pledged her sword and her power to Randi, speaking the words on her knees, and those words were only the surface-level of something deeper and more fundamental. _I vow to obey our Laws and seek the Truth in every thought and deed. This is our sacred trust._

Vanyel had spoken those words as well, and perhaps they had never meant quite the same thing to him, but she knew they had meant something. She had to believe it. _For love, that I will serve Valdemar as long as there is breath in me._ There was a reason why he had stayed alive the last sixteen years, and, and, and–

What did it even mean, here, to preserve the land and people of Valdemar? To seek the truth? It had felt so clear before. So solid. _My path stands clear before me_.

Had those words always been a lie? _I don’t know anymore._

* * *

The night-candle in the hallway at Healers’ had burned a quarter of the way down by the time Shavri made her way back to her suite. She felt a little guilty to be coming home so late; Jisa was probably asleep already, and she had meant to spend a bit of time with her daughter. It would be rude to go in and wake her, though, and Jisa had just gotten to that age where she cared a lot about her privacy. A few months ago she had asked her Uncle Van to put shields on her bedroom so that Shavri couldn’t mindtouch her when she was in there.

Shavri was bone-tired, but not sleepy. Lonely, but the last thing she wanted was to be around people. _I should see if Randi’s still awake_ – but it was definitely a ‘should’, and not a want.

Standing by the window in her own bedroom, she stared vaguely out at the snowbanks, white in the moonlight.

Something pulled at her, a whisper that wasn’t in her ears.

“Shut up, Need,” she muttered out loud. “I haven’t got–” She stopped. Why not? Damn it but she was angry, and there was no other outlet for it. She didn’t care what Melody said; writing a letter to herself wasn’t going to help. Maybe some small and concrete success would make her feel better. Swinging a sword around ought to unleash some of her frustration.

She changed first, shedding her rumpled Greens and donning cut-off trews and a loose man’s shirt, the garb she wore for sparring, unused in her clothes-chest for months now. She laced up her sturdiest boots, and clasped her warmest cloak around her shoulders.

Then she hesitated, her hand hovering above the hilt, the words in a foreign script that, once and never after, she had been able to read.

 _:A mother’s courage:_ Need whispered in her mind, not quite in words.

Shavri let out her breath, and grasped the hilt.

…Instantly, she felt better. Lighter. Need took the curdled, bitter anger-confusion-fear in her chest, and transmuted it to something else, something bright and hot and hard.

 _:Take me where I’m needed:_ Shavri sent. _:Tonight, I’m yours:_


	8. Chapter Eight

Dara sat in the office of the King’s Own, sipping from a cup of hot tea and struggling to keep her eyes on the page in front of her. It was early morning, the third day that everything had been upside down, and Tran – he had eventually snapped at her to stop being formal with him – had asked her to read the mail. Dara was embarrassed; she should have thought of it by herself.

It was a good distraction, at least.

She set aside the letter, and made a note on the List. _Draft message to Roldwin mayor regarding Border-defence, warn of delay._ And, with a question mark: _reroute Herald-Mage Etran by Roldwin?_ Etran, new to his Whites in the last year, was responsible for most of the western border right now. He was a Master-level mage, and from what Dara understood, she thought he ought to be able to handle what they needed. It would have been much faster and easier for Herald Vanyel to do it via the Web, of course, but…not an option they had.

Footsteps. Dara lifted her head. Shavri stood in the doorway, dark ringlets wet from bathing. There were shadows under her eyes, but she didn’t, exactly, look tired. There was something hard and blazing about her, like steel under her skin.

She wore a sheathed sword belted to her waist, over her Healer’s Greens. 

_What?_ Better not to ask. Shavri sat, and Dara went back to the stack of mail.

Some time later, after setting two more letters aside in the pile of everything that could wait until later, she muted a grunt.

“Tran?” she said cautiously.

“What?” Not quite a bark, and he tried to soften it with a forced-looking smile.

She pushed the letter in question across the table. “Remember how Lord Tashir Remoerdis wrote to us in the autumn about visiting Haven? Well, he’d like to make it soon. As soon as the snow melts enough to travel.”

Tran took the paper with a scowl. “I see. That should give us at least a month. Shavri, what do you think? Tell him yes and worry about it later?”

“Seems fine to me,” Shavri said absently.

“Good. Dara, could you draft that message?”

“Of course.” She bent to add it to the List. Rolan would make sure she didn’t write anything too embarrassing.

Minutes passed, and Dara was finally reaching the bottom of the stack. The ‘deal with later’ pile had grown rather large.

“Oh,” she said, out loud. “That’s awkward.”

Shavri didn’t even look up. Tran did turn. “Hmm?”

Dara ran her fingertips over the broken edge of the wax seal. “Letter from Forst Reach. Remember how we talked about asking Lord Withen Ashkevron to take over from Lord Enderby on the Council?”

“…Yes,” Tran said, eyebrows lifting. “Please don’t tell me–”

“He’s sent a reply. Says he would be honoured, and that he’ll be coming up to Haven as soon as possible.”

“Goddamn it.” Tran’s fist thumped the table. “And he hasn’t got the faintest idea about the current problem.”

“No.” Which still confused her. “Why didn’t we send a courier? I remember you talking about it…”

“Because he’s a stiff-necked old goat, and he and Van don’t get along.” Tran massaged his forehead. “He’ll be expecting Van to welcome him. Don’t know what we’ll tell him.” Another, heavy sigh. “He can’t be here sooner than a week. That gives us time to sort something out. I hope.”

A week did feel like a very long time, right now. It shouldn’t have, because surely they needed to be planning for the long run, the implications of what had fallen on them – but it felt impossible to think past tomorrow morning. “Surely Yfandes will be back then–” Dara started.

“Wouldn’t count on it. Wherever she is, she’s taking her sweet time. Coming on three days of it.”

Dara closed her eyes. _I can’t imagine it._ Just the thought of it made her chest tighten, and she reached out to Rolan on instinct, wordlessly.

He was there in a heartbeat, the cool blue light of his mind bathing hers, driving out the shadows. _:I am not going anywhere, Chosen:_

“Draft a message to Lord Ashkevron, Dara,” Tran said wearily. “And see about finding a suite in the Palace for them. Something suitable to their position.” 

Dara nodded, and quickly added it, not to the List, but to the slate she kept next to it with her own personal reminders. She preferred it to paper; it seemed like less of a waste.

A few minutes later, there were more footsteps. Dara looked up. “Good morning, Savil.”

The older Herald-Mage nodded tersely and headed straight for a chair, sagging into it. “Tran, Shavri. Dara. I’ve got three different places I’m supposed to be at once in a candlemark. I don’t know which of you thought I was three people, but. Can we please fix this?”

 _Oops._ Dara felt her face growing warm. She hadn’t scheduled Savil for anything, but still. It was supposed to be her job.

 _:Easy:_ Rolan sent. _:You are being very hard on yourself, Chosen:_

“Of course,” Tran said, at the same time as Shavri broke in with “Later. How’s Van?” They both shot each other annoyed looks.

Savil’s expression had gone deliberately blank. She gestured with her chin at the door; Dara jumped up to close it.

 _:We’re all Mindspeakers here:_ Shavri sent, pulling Dara into the group link. _:Savil, what’s going on?:_

 _:He’s with Melody:_ Overtones of exhaustion, more than anything else, but there was frustration and bitterness as well, and something like shame. _:She’s upset with me. Because I don’t have time to sit with him today:_

 _:I’m sorry:_ Shavri sent, before Dara could think of anything to say. _:We can clear your morning, if you need us to:_

Tran interjected. _:No, we can’t. Savil, I need you in the meeting with Keiran and Lord Lathan about the bandit problem on the East Trade Road. We’ve already pushed him back twice and he’s ready to spit nails:_

Savil glared at him. _:Absolutely not. I can’t handle Lathan this morning. Tell Keiran she can promise whatever she wants on my behalf, if he’s demanding a magical solution. If you make me deal with him I might throw him into a wall:_

Tran started to protest, but subsided, quelled by the authority in Savil’s voice. She did outrank him, Dara thought, now that he wasn’t officially the King’s Own; she was still the First Herald-Mage in the Kingdom. Apparently Vanyel had refused when they tried to promote him past her.

Technically, Dara herself outranked Savil, or would once she got her Whites, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. The Herald-Mage was in a league of her own.

Tran’s jaw worked. The tension in the air between them could have cut glass. Dara could feel the prickly edges, directional shields trying to keep back the worst of the overtones. Just like yesterday, everyone was on edge, locked up tight, obscure undercurrents tugging just beyond her sight.

She kept having the feeling that they weren’t, really, talking to each other. That they only thought they were.

 _:Tran, calm down:_ Shavri sent, mostly directed at him, but Dara caught the edges of it. Then the Healer leaned into the group-link again, concerned. _:Savil, you seem tired:_

 _:I was up late. Web-work. Then Van woke me in the middle of the night:_ A hint of apology and guilt in her mindvoice, but not aimed at any of them. _:He had an especially bad nightmare, I guess, started projecting, and I was in the spare bedroom:_

 _Oof._ That didn’t sound fun at all.

There was a polite rap on the doorframe. All of them jumped, and Dara rose to open the door.

 _Jisa?_ Everyone in the Palace knew her by sight; she would go right up to you and start chattering.

“Jisa?” Shavri said. “What are you doing here?”

The young girl took a step forward. For once, her gown was clean and her damp, freshly-braided hair was tidy – usually when Dara saw her running about the halls of the Palace, she managed to be disheveled despite her governess’s efforts. She straightened to her full height, puffing out her chest and tucking her shoulders back, and fixed her eyes on a point just above Shavri’s head. “Mother,” she said, her voice very level and a few tones deeper than usual. “I would like to speak to you.”

 _Huh_ , Dara thought. That was different. Jisa usually called Shavri ‘Mama’, except when she was angry, but she didn’t exactly seem angry now. Her face was calm. Controlled.

Shavri looked confused for a moment. “Go ahead, pet.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Jisa clasped her hands behind her back. “Listen. I know that you can’t tell me what’s wrong. Because it’s Herald business and it’s private.” There was something rote in her words, Dara thought, they had the cadence of a speech she had rehearsed in front of the mirror. “But you can’t hide from me that something is wrong, and I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m old enough to help.” A pause, and Jisa’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Mother, I can keep Uncle Van company. I don’t mind. Melody had to cancel my lesson again, so I’ve got time, and I promise that I’ll shield properly and I won’t ask him any questions. Melody said it was fine with her if you agreed.” She bowed her head, and waited.

Shavri and Savil locked eyes, sharing a brief and private Mindspeech-conference.

Finally, Shavri pulled them all in again, this time including Jisa, and Dara as well. _:Let’s not talk about this for the whole hallway to hear:_ She shook her head. _:I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, Jisa, but – please don’t. Respect your Uncle Van’s privacy. If Melody says it’s all right, maybe you could have lunch with him, as long as you finish all of your lessons with Beri first:_

 _:Yes, mama!:_ Jisa ran forward, and threw her arms around Shavri. : _Thank you!:_ And she dashed away.

Dara sat back, blinking, feeling as though a whirlwind had run her over. A moment later, she thought to jump up and close the door again.

 _:Not a little girl anymore:_ Shavri mused, half to herself.

“Moving on,” Tran said sharply. “Savil, Melody’s assessing him, right? Assuming she agrees, we need to fit in a time to actually do this.” A glower. “Since Randi’s decided I’m not to be there, I thought I might take over his audience after lunch, which would free him up.”

Dara checked the meeting-schedule on the wall. “You’re supposed to be meeting with the tailors’ guild representative.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the side of his mouth twitching up. “Dara, how would you feel about taking that on?”

Absolutely terrified. “Sure,” she heard herself say.

* * *

Randi was sitting at the small table in his sitting-room – not the formal dining table, that always felt wrong for eating breakfast alone – when he heard the knock.

Shavri? A flare of hope. He missed her. Their parting, after the conversation yesterday in her quarters, still hurt to remember. She was angry with him, and he couldn’t blame her. 

“I’m coming!” Randi stood with effort, retrieved the cane, and limped towards the door. _I hate this._ He had needed a servant to help him dress, since Shavri wasn’t there, but he had sent them away – he wanted to be alone.

Well, no. He wanted Shavri, but she wasn’t there.

“Oh,” he said, pointlessly. “It’s you.”

Melody blinked owlishly. “May I come in?”

“…Of course.” He stepped aside, and she pulled the door shut. “What it is?”

“Let’s go sit down.” She waited until he started to move, and followed. “I just saw Vanyel. He seems reasonably well-rested – your Shavri did him a lot of good last night. I told him about your plan, and he consented to it. I want to register that I still think it’s a terrible idea, but I won’t stop you.” A pause. “How’s after lunch? Tantras will take over your audience.”

“Just a moment.” Easing himself back into the chair, Randi closed his eyes, let his mind go blank, and reached for Sondra. _:Love, does that conflict with anything?:_

_:It shouldn’t. I’ll confirm it Rolan:_

Randi opened his eyes, nodding. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

“I did want to talk first.” Melody’s voice was mild, steady. “How are you feeling about this? Really?”

Randi reached for the silver tea-tray and offered one of the spare cups to Melody, giving himself a moment to think.

“Terrified,” he admitted.

“Good. That’s a sane response.” Melody’s eyes rested on him; for once, her face and body were still. Patient. “What are you afraid of?”

So many things. “That I’ll mess up and hurt him,” Randi said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “And that – that I’ll be _too_ concerned about hurting him, and I won’t ask the questions I should.” He gripped the handle of his own teacup until his knuckles ached. “And…I’m afraid of what I’ll learn.”

He could feel the pressure Melody’s sympathetic gaze, though her face was only a blur in the corner of his eye. “You’re afraid that it will confirm your worst fears. Of what it would mean, if you conclude that Vanyel is compromised to the point of being unsalvageable.”

He hadn’t made it nearly so specific in his head. “Yes.” It felt like falling. Nothing solid left in the world.

“Then we ought to talk about what comes next, if your worst fears turn out to be true. You have to be able to consider the possibility.”

A pang in his chest, and he winced – but she was probably right.

“What would you do?” Melody’s voice was soft.

“I don’t know.”

A sympathetic sound. “Maybe easier to start with, what _wouldn’t_ you do?”

“…I wouldn’t exile him.” Randi had to stop and think. _Is that true?_ “I mean…the worst case scenario is that Leareth has turned him enough that he would consider taking unilateral action against us.”A horrifying thought. “If there’s even a chance of it… We would have to keep him contained, somehow. I suppose you could block his other Gifts, that’s the only way I can think of.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know…if I could still…be his friend…if that happened.”

“But you would try.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I would.” His throat ached. “I would try to help. Even if he has been compromised that deeply, we might still be able to undo it.”

“You wouldn’t give up on him.” Randi felt Melody’s hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s important. May I use my Gift a little? I’m not going to push in any direction, I swear; it’ll just make it easier to think about.”

Randi nodded, and felt the room soften around him.

“I won’t give up on him,” he whispered. “He’s earned that much from me, damn it.”

Said out loud, those words felt true. A bridge strung across the sinkhole under his feet – flimsy, fragile, but enough to hold his weight. For now.

* * *

_:I’ll be there in a moment:_ Melody sent.

Jisa hadn’t even raised her hand to knock. She heard footsteps, then the bolt sliding, and a moment later Melody was hustling her into the room and closing the door behind her.

 _:I’m surprised your mother agreed:_ her teacher added, _:but I am glad you’re here. I badly need a break before this afternoon:_

Jisa said nothing, and tried not to look guilty. It wasn’t quite – all right, fine, it was a lie, she had told Mama that Melody had already agreed, and told Melody that Mama had said she could. Both of those things had been true shortly after, just out of order.

The noon bell had just rung, and she had already finished all of her lesson-work with Beri.

 _:Didn’t want you standing around in the hall:_ Melody added. _:We’re trying not to draw attention. People might ask questions:_ Her green eyes narrowed. _:You aren’t to ask any questions. We’re putting a lot of trust in you, here, and I’m counting on you not to abuse it:_

Jisa nodded solemnly. _:I understand:_ Whatever was happening, it was very serious Herald business. Too big for her. She wished Melody at least would trust her to keep a secret, but even Medren didn’t know anything, and he was almost a grownup.

Still. How was she supposed to help Uncle Van – how was she supposed to help Mama and Papa – if she didn’t know what was wrong?

 _:Jisa:_ Melody must have guessed what she was thinking, and her mindvoice was sharp. _:You aren’t here to fix anything. I promised him you wouldn’t even use your Sight; you know he finds it invasive:_

Melody looked so tired, she thought. _:Where is Uncle Van?:_ She was being good, and not even using her Thoughtsensing to look for him.

_:He wanted to lie down for a bit. I’d like it if you ordered some lunch for him, though, he’s not up for going to the dining-hall. You know how to call for a page?:_

_:Yes:_ It wouldn’t be the first time she had arranged for supper to be ready on the table when Mama and Papa got there. She felt proud, and sad, and she wasn’t sure why.

 _:Good. Let’s go:_ Melody turned, abruptly, and was halfway to the bedroom door before Jisa could move. “Van?” she said out loud. The door was ajar; Melody knocked, then pushed it open all the way. “Van, I’m stepping out. Mindtouch me anytime, if you need something – otherwise I’ll be back for you after lunch. Jisa’s here.”

A mumbled response.

Jisa nudged her way around Melody and through the door. “Heya, Uncle Van.” She tried to sound casual, like everything was ordinary.

Nothing was ordinary. Mama had been wearing her sword in the meeting. Jisa didn’t think she was supposed to know about the sword. It was magic. Mama kept it in a chest under her bed, and sometimes she took it outside and fought bad people. Jisa had overheard her talking about it with Papa, and been very jealous.

Mama never wore it in public, though. It should have looked silly overtop of her Healers’ robes, but somehow it had been right.

Uncle Van was midway through sitting up, in a nest of blankets. “Heya, pet.” His smile wasn’t very convincing, but she pretended not to notice.

“I brought some books,” she said. “I could read you my new favourite poem.” She was too old to play with dolls, now, but she had thought about bringing them anyway. She could guess that he wouldn’t feel like making conversation.

“That would be nice.” His voice didn’t sound like he cared one way or another.

Melody’s gentle Mindtouch interrupted her. _:I’m going. You might want to lock the door behind me:_

“Uncle Van, I’ll be right back. Um, do you want some tea or something?” Jisa had spotted a covered pot on the sideboard. Given that Melody was here, probably it was still fresh and hot.

He blinked. “What? Oh. Please.”

Jisa locked the front door carefully, and then put the teapot and two cups on a tray and carried it back into the bedroom. “Can I come sit with you?”

“If you want, pet.” Another attempted smile.

She was shielding very carefully, and she hated it; she felt half-blind. How was she supposed to be comforting, to say and do the right things, when she couldn’t tell how he was feeling?

Melody would say she had gotten lazy. _You can’t only rely on your Sight,_ she had always said, and she made Jisa practice not using her Othersenses at all, and just looking at how people spoke and moved and what their faces did.

She pulled Savil’s little bedside table closer and set the tea-tray on it, and then clambered into the bed next to Uncle Van. And watched him, trying not to be obvious about it.

He was very tense. She could see it in the way he held his shoulders, the veins more visible than usual in his neck. Something was pulled tight inside him, straining. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hair was matted, robe disheveled. That was alarming in itself, because Uncle Van always paid attention to his appearance. Melody had taught her to notice things like that.

Even without her using her Gifts at all, he was setting off all the alarm bells in her head. Something was very wrong.

“Can I read you a book?” she said.

“If you like.” He didn’t quite look at her.

He was afraid, she thought. Hiding it well, but terrified. Not the kind of fear that drove someone to fight or run away, but the kind that paralyzed. Jisa remembered waking from nightmares as a little girl, when she was still scared of the dark, still half-believed that monsters under her bed were real. The fear had pinned her down; she had wanted to curl up perfectly still, because she couldn’t fight or run away, not from the dark that was everywhere and nowhere, but if she didn’t move then maybe then the monsters wouldn’t see her.

She was bigger now, and she knew that there were no monsters – or, no, there were monsters, colddrakes and _wyrsa_ , and demons with too many legs and eyes, but Mama had fought them off with daggers of ordinary steel, because Mama hadn’t wanted to be helpless and so she had learned to fight, and she had put Jisa in weapons lessons too. And Jisa wasn’t helpless anymore.

Uncle Van wasn’t a little child, to be afraid of the dark, but it seemed like that somehow. The mute resignation, how he curled into himself, trying to take up no space.

Jisa didn’t even want to think about what could make her Uncle Van, the most powerful mage in the Kingdom and maybe the whole world, feel helpless. If there was a danger even he couldn’t ward off, how was she supposed to help?

She could be there. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

* * *

_I don’t want to do this._

Randi’s mouth was very dry, and he couldn’t make himself stop fidgeting with the notes in his lap, though the edge of the paper was already starting to fray. They were in one of the small private meeting-rooms, meant for casual, intimate conversations with foreign dignitaries and other important guests – it was lushly appointed and very comfortable, with padded armchairs and low round tables, a fire crackling in the hearth.

Dara must have picked it out, after Melody asked him to find a place that wasn’t Savil’s suite. _I want him to still feel safe there,_ she had said, and it had made Randi want to cry.

The room was thoroughly shielded. Randi couldn’t reach his Sondra at all.

Shavri was next to him, hand resting on his shoulder. He wondered if Melody had spoken to her as well. She seemed calmer today. Steadier. She had come in wearing the bloody sword belted to her waist, the one she had brought back from k’Treva years ago; it was propped against the arm of her chair now, still in its scabbard, and her free hand kept touching the hilt. Randi didn’t think he had ever see her don the thing in public before, and it made him uneasy, but he hadn’t said anything. If it gave her strength, to have the damned blade with her, he wasn’t going to argue.

The door creaked open.

Randi blinked – for a moment, he thought it had opened of its own accord – but then three figure swam into view, as Savil dropped the illusion over them. She was holding Vanyel’s hand, leading him along like a child, Melody on their heels.

 _Gods, he looks dreadful._ Vanyel’s hair was a bird’s-nest tangle, his face pale and drawn, bloodshot eyes fixed on the floor. He shuffled in Savil’s wake, and let himself be eased down into one of the armchairs, directly opposite Randi.

Melody closed the door and bolted it, and then took the chair to Vanyel’s left, while Savil settled herself on his right. Like battle lines, Randi found himself thinking, unbidden. Enemy regiments facing each other across a field.

 _I can’t do this._ But he had no choice.

“Vanyel,” he said. “You understand why we’re doing this?”

Vanyel lifted his head, eyes locking onto a point just above Randi’s head. “I think so. You need more information. I understand.” His voice was hoarse, empty of any real emotion, but clear enough.

“Not just that.” Randi closed his eyes. “Van, I care about you. I don’t believe you would ever willingly betray the Kingdom, and…I want to hear your side of things. No matter what–” He stopped, swallowed. Melody had helped him prepare this opening, and he _wanted_ to say ‘no matter what, you’re a Herald’, but she had cautioned him against it. _He’s not sure of that, right now_. _Being that Yfandes is gone and all._

“No matter what,” he finished, “you’re my friend and colleague, and you’ve done so much for us.”

Vanyel’s jaw twitched, but he gave no response.

He took a deep breath. “Shavri. Truth Spell, please. First-level.” He and Melody had gone back and forth, and he had pushed to use the coercive version, but she had fought him tooth and nail. _He’s willing to cooperate,_ she had said, _and anything he can’t bring himself to think about on his own, is for good reason. Let him respect his limits, please._ Randi had agreed to start off with the first-stage, and shift to second-stage only if Vanyel wasn’t being forthcoming about an important query.

Vanyel’s mouth twisted. “I can handle second-stage.”

Randi blinked, a strange mix of hot-and-cold blooming in his gut. “It’s not necessary,” he said. “Not to start with.”

“Oh.” Vanyel lowered his eyes to his lap, one hand cupping his stomach as though it hurt him.

The blue halo blossomed around his hair.

 _Better get started._ Melody warned that Vanyel didn’t have much stamina, right now – he could probably last through a candlemark of questioning, but not all afternoon. Yet another constraint to work around, on top of all the questions she had tried to cross off his list, especially the ones from the draft Tran had given him.

“Vanyel,” he said. “First. Do you intend to tell us the full truth, and not hold anything back?”

“Yes.” The light didn’t budge. “Randi…. No more secrets.”

 _Oh, gods, it hurts to do this to you._ And he couldn’t let any of it show. “To start,” he said. “I want to know more about your use of blood-magic, and where Leareth influenced your thinking.” _We know he’s willing to consider it again_ , Tran had pointed out, _but not the exact lines he would draw. That could be very informative, if we want to know whether we can trust his ethical judgement out in the battlefield._ Clearly, he thought they couldn’t.

Melody thought it would be one of the less fraught topics, which was why Randi was starting with it. Maybe she had a point – this was something that had come up before, not as fresh as the rest.

“Deerford,” Randi said. “If you were in that situation again, now – what would you do?”

Vanyel’s posture tightened. “I would ask Lissa,” he said, barely audible. “For a volunteer.”

Randi’s breath caught. _I hadn’t thought of that._ It – he wasn’t sure if it was better, exactly, but Savil was nodding, her lips pressed together.

Keep pressing. “What if you couldn’t? If it were only you and the child?”

A long hesitation. “…I would ask him.” Vanyel’s voice was a choked whisper, but understandable. “If he said yes, I…would do it. If he said no… I don’t – maybe.” He had brought his knees in, hugging them to his chest. “Two questions,” he said suddenly. “The version where it happened again, now. Or where I…go back in time, to that day. Which one?”

Randi hadn’t even thought about the distinction. “Both, I suppose,” he said levelly.

“Oh. If it was now now, I would do what I said. If I went back…” Vanyel clenched his eyes shut, trembling. “Don’t know. There was a cost, that I underweighted… Sacred trust. The Heralds.” There was a dusty choking sound, and it took Randi a moment to recognize it as a bitter laugh. “Too late now. Already paid that price, for everyone. Forever. If I went back, had to do it over…” A shuddering breath. “I don’t know. Maybe. I should…have a policy. Not make that choice under pressure.”

It was even harder than Randi had expected, watching him.

Keep moving, before he lost his courage. “Tell me about the considerations that would go into that policy,” he said. “And which concepts you learned from Leareth.”

Vanyel eyes lifted briefly. His cheeks were wet. “I’m…not sure anymore. Which of my ideas are his. But I’ll try.”

That was deeply unsettling. “Go on,” Randi said.

They back and forth, minutes passing. Shavri had pulled out a sheet of canvas, pinned to a board, and started taking notes – not just a list of points, but drawing it out in lines and boxes. The way Vanyel had showed him, once. Randi, briefly distracted, asked Vanyel if the technique came from Leareth, and was unsurprised to learn the answer was yes.

He was finding it hard to wrap his mind around. So many of the considerations Vanyel raised were reasonable, even things that Randi would have listed as well, but the way he combined and weighted them was different.

“Say that again?” he said finally. “The part about precedent, and rules of virtuous behaviour. What do those words mean to you?” He kept having the sense that it was subtly different from what _he_ meant.

Vanyel was folded up in the chair, hugging himself, and had slapped away Savil’s hand when she tried to rest it on his shoulder. But, yet again, he answered. “Just… There’s a world. Out there. Things happen. Actions, decisions, different paths…” A few ragged breaths. “There’s a fact of the matter. About what has…the best outcome. Only the results matter, but – we’re human. Limited, fallible. Can’t just calculate the impact of every choice. So we figure out rules. Our best guess. Not perfect, not right for every situation, but…better. Than trying to guess each time, under pressure, when we’re biased by our feelings.”

It was the clearest articulation of it he had managed so far, and Shavri was nodding, making a note.

“So you would ground all of it in outcomes?” Randi pressed. “If there was an action that all the common-sense standards of ethics said was monstrous–” like, say, sacrificing ten million people for blood-power, “–but you were _sure_ it would result in the best outcome, you would do it?”

“I would have to be _very_ sure.” A small, sad half-smile. “Maybe impossible to be sure enough, in practice, for some actions. There’s always a risk that you’re wrong.” A long pause. “But in principle, yes.”

Randi lifted his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. “And, just to check, this style of ethical reasoning comes from Leareth?”

“Not just him. Seldasen writes about it. He doesn’t take it as far, not through all the implications, but the basic idea is there.”

Interesting. _I ought to reread Seldasen on ethics._ Randi had worked through that treatise as a trainee, fifteen years ago, and the details were hazy. Probably he hadn’t been able to think through the implications either, at fourteen; his recollection was of finding it rather boring.

“King Randale,” Melody said suddenly. “I think we ought to take a break.”

Randi nodded, digging in his pocket for a handkerchief and mopping the beads of sweat that had gathered around his hairline. He loosened the neck of his shirt; it was too warm. _Gods, this is stressful._

“Vanyel, center and ground,” Melody was saying. “Deep breaths.” She glanced over. “Shavri, could I have you come over here and get him calmed down? He said it was very helpful, what you did last night.”

“Oh, with my Gift?” Shavri balanced her note-board on the arm of her chair and slipped down, kneeling on the rug and reaching awkwardly over the low marble table to take Vanyel’s hand. A moment later, some of the tension visibly left his shoulders; he sagged back in the chair.

 _I could use that as well,_ Randi thought, with a brief burst of pride. Shavri had so many talents. Sometimes he could hardly believe it.

Vanyel let Savil grip his other hand, and Randi saw her face go blank; they were evidently Mindspeaking to each other, and he thought Melody was jumping in as well.

“I’m ready to keep going,” Vanyel said out loud, properly meeting Randi’s eyes for the first time, though his voice was flat and distant again.

“Good.” He was clearly trying so hard; Randi couldn’t help but find it touching. “Vanyel, I need to ask about the Web. You’re responsible for almost all of the design. How much of it was inspired by Leareth?”

“We never discussed it directly.” Vanyel’s eyes shifted to the fireplace. “Even once I was telling him more. Tried not to reveal anything. But…yes. Inspiration for the maths behind it. Initially, the assignment of quadrants…”

It seemed easier for him to talk about this, Randi thought, though it quickly became technical enough that he struggled to follow. Shavri, bless her, was taking notes again.

“I’m going to try to summarize,” he said finally, when Vanyel fell silent. “The energy-source – the Heartstone – is from the Tayledras, and Leareth has told you he doesn’t know how to make one. You think the vrondi were purely your own idea, via Deedre’s research. The splitting up areas of responsibility between mages, and the system behind the alarm-settings, is inspired heavily by general discussion with Leareth, but none of it is directly copied from his work. Is that right?”

Vanyel nodded.

“In your estimation, would he be able to evade the alarms?”

Another, more reluctant nod. “Doesn’t matter what I told him. He’s clever enough to have noticed that the vrondi detect mage-energy, not mages. All he has to do is come in under shields, avoid casting until he’s ready to attack. He would know the vrondi can’t harm him directly, only make him uncomfortable, and he’s…not easily perturbed.”

“But you don’t think he could find a way to use blood-power, say, without detection?”

Vanyel shook his head. “Can’t rule it out. If he’s studied the vrondi himself…maybe he can trick them. Or drive them out of an area. But, wouldn’t be anything I told him. I was very careful.”

“Right.” Not the most reassuring answer, but the halo of blue light hadn’t budged – at the very least, Vanyel truly believed he hadn’t let anything slip to Leareth. “How about the lack of mage-gifted children? Is there any chance that’s the result of one of Leareth’s plots?”

Vanyel shook his head, firmly. “I mean, can’t be sure, but I can’t think how. Unless he influenced Deedre somehow, to study the _vrondi…_ But that was before he talked to me. He couldn’t have known he’d have a chance to affect Valdemar’s policy, let alone that I would use them that way. No.” Another decisive head-shake. “All the work he inspired – can’t see how that would affect it. And that was earlier. Before the war. There were still mage-gifted trainees after that. Wasn’t until four years later that I put in the _vrondi_.”

“And that’s when our problem started.” Randi nodded his agreement.

“Oh.” Vanyel’s chin twitched up. “I mean. Leareth’s responsible for some of it. Kidnapping children. Might’ve been going on for decades. But…as far as I can tell, he really did stop. When I asked. He swore an oath on all the stars in the sky…”

“Do you know for sure that he stopped?”

“No,” Vanyel admitted. “Only that we never caught him. If he did it discreetly enough…with no magic used, shields over them…when their Gift was only just starting to awaken…only a few children here and there, from remote homesteads, where no one would bring it to the Herald on circuit…then conceivably we wouldn’t have noticed.”

But he could hardly steal that _many_ children, that way. Any town-sized settlement would see a Herald on circuit regularly, and Randi was sure they would have heard about missing children, mage-gifted or not.

“I see,” he said. “And you believe his promise to stop.”

Vanyel closed his eyes, breathed in and out, opened them. “Yes. But…can’t really explain to you, why. Just my intuition. That he doesn’t lie to me.” He lifted one shoulder and let it fall, a helpless half-shrug. “I would understand if you don’t believe me. And I could be wrong.”

That gave Randi an excellent opening for one of the questions he was most burningly curious about – and most feared the answer to – but it was likely to be one of the more upsetting ones, as well, and he and Melody had agreed to start with the relatively neutral topics.

“Vanyel,” he said. “Other than the Web, what do you know for sure that Leareth _does_ know, about our Kingdom?”

Vanyel’s shoulders rose. “…Most of it isn’t because I _told_ him. He has spies. Would let slip that he knew something, and…I tried to be vague, and not tell him more than he knew already.” A shrug. “He’s perceptive, he can read me very well. So he probably guessed things I didn’t say.” Vanyel frowned. “Not sure I remember everything without my notes. I’ll try.”

“Take your time,” Randi offered.

Vanyel nodded, his eyes going distant. “Some details about our education system, because it’s based on his ideas, he guessed that even though I didn’t say much. He might know about our problem with mage-gifted trainees. Herald graduation lists aren’t secret. I asked him once about activating mage-potential. He might’ve guess why.” A pause. “He knows about Need. Don’t remember how that came up. He probably knows we’re studying Gates. Talked about that. Um. I taught him a lot of our songs.”

Randi managed, barely, not to laugh. It wasn’t actually funny; it was just nerves.

“Probably isn’t important,” Vanyel went on. “Some were about the war, I guess. Mostly public knowledge. Would’ve learned it from our spies anyway.” His eyes moved behind closed eyelids. “He knows I know about the Temple of Astera message-system. He knows I used blood-power. About the trial. I told him about Vkandis’ intervention, with Karis.” A pause. “He knows about our tax-credits for Herald-trainees’ families to have more children, and the support for childrearing, he gave me the idea.”

Oh. Of course. It was exactly the sort of strange insight that Randi had gotten used to hearing from Vanyel, until he stopped questioning it. Of course it was from Leareth. He couldn’t see that it was a much of a security vulnerability, though.

“Told him some of my thoughts about Groveborn Companions,” Vanyel went on. “Figure it was nothing new, he would’ve studied Companions before – he met Taver. He knows h-how–” Vanyel’s voice caught, “how my Gifts were awakened.” An unsteady breath. “Didn’t seem like he could do much with it.”

Randi tried to hide a shiver. A sufficiently unscrupulous mage – and Leareth certainly was that – might well try to do something with that knowledge. And, maybe more importantly, it was a clear, shocking sign of trust, that Vanyel had been willing to speak of it at all.

“I think I said to him that I hadn’t told you,” Vanyel said finally. “About talking to him. I mean – I think he’d guessed already, he’s not stupid.”

No, Leareth wasn’t stupid, and he would have expected the King to take strong actions if he knew. He was clearly a deeply secretive man; he might assume that anyone else who was smart would do the same.

It did bring in another concern – would Leareth somehow infer that they _did_ know, now? Hard to imagine how, but if he was that clever…

“That’s all I can remember,” Vanyel said finally.

It was more than Randi had expected. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. _Time for the harder question._ “Vanyel. A few things you’ve said. Like that you trust Leareth not to lie to you. How do you really feel towards the man?”

It was, as he had expected, a more sensitive topic – Vanyel was already curling inwards again – but he answered unhesitatingly. “I respect him. He’s brilliant, and he cares. Really and truly cares about all the people, about the future. He’s trying to do the right thing, for the world. For everyone. He could be lying, but…I believe him.”

Randi made an encouraging sound.

Vanyel’s hands twisted together in his lap. “I don’t know if he’s right about the implementation. If his plan would work, and is worth the risk. But…I think he’s doing it for the right reasons.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Hard to explain. Lots of small things. I don’t know… It took him ten years, before I really believed him about his intentions. Just, the way he talks about things…what he’s written…how hard he’s worked, for so long…” There were tears in Vanyel’s eyes again. “He says people are lights in the world. He said – during the war, when I wanted to give up – he said…”

Vanyel’s voice shifted, taking on the rote quality of words he must have played over in his mind a thousand times. “That he looks at the stars, and remembers that everyone is worth saving, all the lights, and it was always too late to save all of them, but we can still save some. And he said, when I asked…why he even cared…why he was trying to comfort me, when I was his destined enemy – he s-said I was t-trying to do what was right, even when it was hard, that I d-don’t ever walk away…he said it was r-rarer than I think…that I b-burned brighter…and he couldn’t–” Vanyel broke off into a sob.

“Randale, please give us a moment,” Melody said calmly. “Vanyel, hey. I know it hurts to think about. Just try to make space for that, all right?”

The blue halo hadn’t flickered at all, but even without that proof, Randi would have believed that Vanyel was telling the truth. He felt a sudden ache of sympathy; Vanyel was facing an awful contradiction of his own, tearing him apart. Leareth, a man who he respected deeply – who had given him valuable advice time and time again – who had been there for him during some of the worst times of his life, when no one else was – had just proposed something horrific. How would he feel in his friend’s place, right now?

“I’m fine,” Vanyel said, unconvincingly. He stared blankly at the handkerchief Melody had placed in his hand, then absently wiped his eyes. “You can keep going.”

Randi waited for Melody’s fractional nod. He checked at his notes. _Oh, gods, I so do not want to ask about that._ He had to. If he dodged any of the questions on the list, it would only give Tran more ammunition to argue that he was biased in Vanyel’s favour – and he could be right.

“Leareth has done a lot of awful things,” Randi said. “And that’s just the ones we know about. The dagger trap-spell.” He tried not to flinch, remembering how close Shavri and Jisa had come to dying, and as always feeling a pang of guilt-shame-apology layered under his gratitude for Jaysen’s sacrifice. _I haven’t forgotten you, Jay._ A candle he burned every Sovvan, the third one he lit, after Darvi and Elspeth. Such a little flame, to honour a man whose final act of courage might have saved an entire kingdom–

 _Focus, damn it._ He was blinking away tears of his own now. “The dagger,” he repeated. “Supplying the bloodpath mages in the north, the kidnapped children. All his damned assassination attempts on you. Van, how in the name of all hells are you okay with that?”

His voice was harsher than he’d intended, and Vanyel flinched, tucking his chin into his chest. “Not sure I can explain,” he said dully. “He regrets it, truly regrets it, when his plans hurt people, when there are unintended consequences – he grieves for it. But he doesn’t let it stop him from acting. He takes gambles. Doesn’t see he can afford to have scruples, he would say that cuts off too many possible plans. He would say that what he’s trying to do is too hard, and he needs to be able to consider all the options.”

“And do you think he’s right?”

“I don’t know. Specific instances seem unforgivable, but. He has more information than I do. Maybe he’s doing the maths wrong, and it’s not really justified, but – I can’t say it’s _always_ unacceptable, to take those kinds of risks. During the war…”

Randi didn’t need that comment finished. _You committed atrocities for me._ Vanyel, following orders from his King, had hunted down the Karsites’ foremost priest-Adept like an animal. None of them had known anything about him, then, but he had been an honourable man, or at least Karis believed so. Not so different from Vanyel.

Van had slaughtered soldiers in droves. Set traps that killed innocent refugees as well as combatants. Turned demons back into undefended farmland, for lack of any better option.

 _I sent you out there, Van, and I asked you to be a monster for your Kingdom._ And he had done it, unhesitatingly, no matter the cost.

Maybe it had broken something in him.

 _Maybe it broke me as well._ Randi remembered reading casualty-reports and feeling nothing in particular – two years into the war, it had become so routine. Just numbers. Pieces on a board, to be moved around, anything that gave his kingdom the best chance of survival. Gambles, so many of them.

And he had grieved for it, when he chose wrong – Shavri, more than anyone, was the person who had helped him remember to feel – but he had learned not to let the guilt stop him That was another lesson Darvi had taught, so long ago. _You will make mistakes, son. You have to choose anyway, even when you’re not sure, even when there are no good options. Don’t let it paralyze you. The King needs to be decisive._

Advice that sounded almost exactly like what Vanyel had quoted from Leareth. Damn it, the last thing he wanted to be feeling was sympathy for the man.

“I understand,” he heard himself say, and glanced back down at the paper. _Oh, no. Not that one._ Come back to it later, then, he had to ask at some point but he couldn’t face it yet.

Move down the list. “Vanyel,” he said. “I need to ask – how does all of this affect how you see your duty to this Kingdom? Is there any circumstances under which you would defy a direct order from me, if you thought that you were right and I was wrong?”

Vanyel had tucked his legs in again. “I – Randi – I don’t–” He blinked rapidly. “Can’t promise. If I thought you were making a mistake…”

Ice seemed to crystallize in his stomach. “Would you talk to me first?” Randi said, as gently as he could. “Van – can you _promise_ me that you would?”

“I don’t know. I mean, if I were out somewhere, in the field…if it would take too long…”

“I’m not thinking of that,” Randi said quickly. _I don’t know that we’re ready to trust you out on your own,_ was the part he didn’t say. Not for a long time. Maybe never again. “If we were both here, in Haven. Can you swear to me that you would talk to me first before doing anything irreversible?”

Vanyel’s face twisted. “…I swear.”

The light was rock-steady. _He means it._ Randi felt some of the tension in his spine ease, leaving sore muscles and confusion.

“Can’t promise I’ll follow your orders,” Vanyel said dully. “I mean. I usually would. Almost always. Can’t think of a time I wouldn’t. Just, if I really, truly thought you were wrong–” He cut off, jaw working.

“I understand.” Randi took another deep, steadying breath. “Would you ever go north and join Leareth’s side?”

Vanyel’s eyes widened, startled and off-balance, but Randi could almost see his thoughts grinding into motion.

“Against my orders,” Randi added quickly – he had a suspicion that Vanyel was looking for edge cases again, and it wasn’t beyond the pale that he might consider sending Vanyel to infiltrate the enemy camp; Leareth’s quasi-friendship with Van might end up being a resource they needed. _If we’re ever willing to trust him again._

“No.” The word was firm, without hesitation. “Not unless a lot of things change. Randi, I _really_ don’t want to do this on my own.”

“What sorts of things would have to change?” Randi shot back.

“I don’t even know.” Vanyel squeezed his eyes shut, thinking. “If you had a terrible plan…that wouldn’t work…and would get all the Heralds and the entire Guard killed…and you wouldn’t listen to me, that it was bad…”

“Fair enough, I guess. If it seems like I’ve lost my mind, you wouldn’t want to obey my orders.” It was all he could think of to say.

“You could think it was a worthwhile gamble,” Vanyel pointed out, faintly. “If you thought the chance of stopping Leareth was worth any cost. Might be…completely sane…from that perspective.”

Yes, he could imagine thinking that. It wasn’t just Valdemar at stake; if he thought his Kingdom’s destruction was already guaranteed, but there was a chance that on their way out they could save the rest of the world from a monster…

“Vanyel,” he said. “If I ordered you, right now, to go north and do your best to kill him, would you?”

Melody made a disapproving sound, and Randi winced. That question _hadn’t_ been on the list; it had just slipped out, a natural follow-up.

Vanyel screwed up his face. “Don’t think we’re ready. To make that decision. And…sorry, I d-don’t think I’d be up for it right now.” 

No – Vanyel wouldn’t make it past the city gates right now. “I know,” Randi said, trying to keep his voice soothing. “And you’re right, we aren’t ready to make that decision.” Though only because it seemed like a plan that almost certainly wouldn’t work. _If I could flip a lever and kill Leareth in his sleep right now, I would._ It seemed Vanyel would hesitate to make that call, which was their whole damned problem.

Vanyel hadn’t really answered the question, but Randi didn’t feel like pushing. He trusted him not to walk out with no warning. For the moment, that would have to be enough.

Moving on.

“Vanyel,” he said. “You haven’t really said much about this, so far. How do you really feel about Leareth’s plan?”

Vanyel shivered. “I mean. It’s horrifying. But…he knows that.” Abruptly, he put his head down on his knees. His voice was muffled but still audible. “He asked me to hear him out. Listen with an open mind. Take the consequences of what I believe seriously.” A shudder went through him. “I can’t see _how_ , yet, it seems monstrous, can’t imagine it’s the best way, but…maybe he’s right. Somehow.”

Leareth had asked him to listen, to really think about it, and he had. _You feel you owe him that much._

“I understand,” Randi said. “Thank you.”

Now for the questions he _really_ didn’t want to ask. Vanyel seemed to be holding up surprisingly well, so far – he was a lot more coherent than Randi had expected – but the rest was going to be worse.

“Let’s take a short break again,” he said, and closed his eyes, reaching out a hand and a tendril of Mindspeech to the one person it was effortless with. _:Shavri? I need – can you do the thing with your Healing? This is stressful:_

 _:You’re doing really well:_ The overtones were complex, conflicted, but there was pride there. Relief. _:Here:_

Randi felt his heart rate slow to normal, his churning gut settling. _:That’s much better. Thank you:_

 _:I should help Van as well:_ she sent, reluctantly disentangling her hand from his. _:He’s been having a full-fledged panic-reaction ever since you asked him how he felt about Leareth. I’m amazed he can think at all:_

Oh. Randi hadn’t realized that – Vanyel wasn’t exactly keeping his composure, it was unnerving to see him so unguarded, but he wasn’t flailing around either.

He focused on his own breathing, watching through slitted eyes as Shavri took Vanyel’s hand and he went limp again.

“Maybe not that much,” Melody said dryly. “He’s going to fall asleep. Van, I know you’re tired – can you manage a few more minutes? We can come back to this, if you need to rest.”

“No. I can do it.”

“If you’re sure. Take a minute to get settled. How are you feeling?”

Vanyel grimaced. “Really sick to my stomach.”

“That can happen when you’re very stressed,” Shavri said, soothing. “It’s normal. Just take deep breaths, it’ll pass.”

Randi ignored the pang of guilt. “Are you ready?” he said.

“Yes.” This time, Vanyel had let Savil keep hold of his hand.

Randi couldn’t look at his face, so he stared at the fireplace instead. “Vanyel, there’s something that’s very confusing to all of us.” Tran had a point – it ought to be a warning flag that Leareth had somehow wormed his way so deeply into Vanyel’s mind, even if it was only via convincing words. Because _nothing_ should have made this forgivable, for him. “You know that Leareth was involved in hiring Krebain to murder our Herald-Mages and trainees. Which resulted in Tylendel’s death. And yet you kept speaking to him. Why?”

A quiet indrawn breath was the only reaction, but it might as well have been a blow. Randi flinched.

“It wasn’t – I can’t–” Vanyel’s voice was thick, choked.

The brush of Melody’s mind – she must have been a very skilled Mindspeaker, Randi thought, she held the link steady enough that it was barely straining him at all. _:Can he use Mindspeech for this? He’s finding it very difficult to speak about:_

Which was understandable. _:Of course:_

Vanyel could Mindspeak him from across a room, he was one of the only people other than Shavri who had enough rapport for it, but it would be easier on both of them if they were touching. Cautiously, Randi half-stood and dragged his chair forward, wincing at the ache in his arms and back, until he was able to reach across the low table and take Vanyel’s free hand.

Mindspeech was better, for some purposes. It wasn’t literally true that you couldn’t lie, in Mindspeech, though it was commonly said, but it was harder, and the overtones conveyed a lot. 

Of course, the downside was that he got to know _exactly_ how Vanyel was feeling right now, which he might have preferred to avoid.

 _:Sorry:_ Vanyel sent, the pain and grief clear in his mindvoice. _:I guess…it does look strange, from the outside. Randi, I didn’t speak to him for a year. After I found out. I was so angry. But, I mean, it wasn’t any worse. Than everything I already knew he’d done. Didn’t seem fair, or consistent, to weight it more heavily, just – just because it was personal:_ A breath that was half a sob. _:He was sorry. To have hurt me. He burned a candle, for him, on Sovvan… He says, he’s willing to take those risks, if he judges it’s worth it, but he’s sorry… Gods! Randi, I could’ve done exactly the same to someone else. All those Karsites I slaughtered. Lifebonds aren’t that rare:_

That was a point that Randi had never considered before, and it cut like a knife. He tried to keep the reaction to himself – Vanyel hardly needed to deal with that as well – but he had never been that skilled at directional shielding, though he had gotten a little better in recent years, it was a necessity around Jisa.

 _:Don’t know how much it was even his fault:_ Vanyel went on. _:Knowing the gods were involved. The Star-Eyed set me on this path. I was always her pawn… Maybe Krebain as well. Maybe Leareth too. He was furious at the idea. He said…he swore an oath, to me, on the stars, that someday he would fix the world, so it wouldn’t ever happen to anyone again. That he would’ve done it anyway, he wished he could’ve done it sooner, but – but now he would do it in his memory as well. Tylendel’s memory:_

Ouch. That was…well, it was _exactly_ what a brilliant man, incredibly skilled in manipulation, might do to bring Vanyel onto his side.

It might even be sincere, and that was almost worse.

Vanyel was weeping silently now, his face red and crumpled.

Melody’s hand brushed Randi’s shoulder. _:Please just ask your other question and get this over with:_ She was visibly concerned, but she wasn’t trying to stop him – she had pushed hard to veto the final question, earlier, and the one about Tylendel as well.

Randi had overruled her. _I hope that isn’t a mistake._

“Last question,” he said, keeping the Mindspeech link open but speaking out loud, saving his energy. “Vanyel, you have to understand why it’s very concerning, from our perspective, that Yfandes left. Can you tell us what you think was going on with her?”

Vanyel’s entire body went rigid in the chair.

“You don’t have to answer,” he added quickly. “If it’s too hard to think about.”

 _:No, I’ll try:_ Randi managed, barely, not to flinch away from the anguish in his mindvoice. _:She was…always…uncomfortable…when I talked about the gods. When I questioned if they were on our side. We…weren’t as close. Last four years. Think maybe we…weren’t on the same page. Going in:_

“Vanyel.” Melody’s voice was sharper than usual – coming from her, it was practically a shout. “Don’t push it. It’s all right. Think about something else now.”

 _:No:_ He turned his face away from her. _:Important. Have to. Randi, I think it…hit a limit, for her. Something she can’t even think about. The part about…fighting the gods. Companions were made…by a god…maybe she can’t help it…:_ Vanyel was shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face, his nose running down his upper lip, but he ignored her. _:She said…I wasn’t…the person she Chose…:_

“Van–” Melody started to say, reaching for his shoulder, but broke off as a tide of emotion washed over them. The worst pain Randi had ever felt.

Fragments of words.

_– A broken ugly thing – shouldn’t ever have stayed in the world – not even a Herald anymore – a wall of darkness across the future – too late– slide into the Shadow-Lover’s arms – would stop hurting – she doesn’t care if I live or die anymore – you didn’t care enough to stay – no no no no no –_

“Vanyel!” Melody snapped. “Stop, we’re done, try to calm down – Savil! Get a shield on him!”

“I’m _trying_ , I can’t–”

Randi, from where he had fallen back into his chair, saw Savil rising, trying to reach for her nephew. He had curled up into a tight ball, arms over his head, whimpering, and she couldn’t reach him – an invisible wall of force blocked her, like an eggshell wrapped around his body. 

**“Vanyel!”** There was something odd in Melody’s voice, a resonance, it seemed to bounce around forever inside of Randi’s head.

Vanyel froze. The wave of projected agony trailed off.

“Take down the barrier, please,” Melody said, gently but with granite in it. “Vanyel, I’m going to help, I promise, I’m going to make it stop hurting for a bit so you can rest, but you have to let me through.”

No response.

Melody straightened her spine, and her voice changed again. **“Take it down.”**

The invisible wall must have vanished, because Savil, who had been hammering at it with raised hands that threw off sparks of power, nearly fell on top of him.

Melody reached in, peeling away his clasped hands, forcing his chin up. **“Vanyel. Look at me.”**

–Seconds later, Vanyel went completely limp, sagging bonelessly into Savil’s arms.

Dead silence.

“Well,” Savil said shakily, “that was dramatic. Melody, what–”

“Shush.” Melody was reaching around Savil’s hands, resting her fingertips on Vanyel’s forehead. His silver eyes were open, but unfocused. “Damn it, woman, that’s sloppy work,” the Mindhealer muttered to herself under her breath.

“What did you do?” Shavri, worried but calm. “Did you use your Gift to knock him out?”

Randi wasn’t sure he could manage to speak at all, yet; his heart was still trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

“Complete dissociative-block,” Melody said mildly.

Savil grimaced. “The incredibly creepy one.”

Melody raised her eyebrows, but let it slide. “Theoretically he ought to be able to walk back over to the Heralds’ Wing with some help, though it’ll be a struggle, this block hits him harder than most people. And unlike putting him to sleep, it’s safe for me to leave it and, I don’t know, go take a nap or something. Before I have to deal with the aftermath. I hope you got what you wanted, Randale.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Save it for later. Shavri, Savil, help me get him up.”


	9. Chapter Nine

“No,” Randi said dully. “We’re not asking him any more questions. It was a disaster.”

Shavri raised her eyebrows. “I thought it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Tran gave her a dubious look, but let it slide. He was still miffed about being excluded, and taking it out on Randi by arguing. They were in Randi’s bedroom, waiting for the others – it was late, and her lifebonded had pleaded exhaustion. Not the first meeting he had taken from his bed in recent months.

“I’ve been cruel enough to him already,” Randi murmured.

“Randi, there’s no point beating yourself up about it. It’s done.” Shavri had been plenty annoyed with him, but he was right, there was so much they had needed to know.

And, maybe, Vanyel had needed to speak of it. She had seen the relief in him, at moments – however painful it had been, she thought part of him was glad to have it all in the open. 

What would it have been like to keep a secret like that for fifteen years? Shavri couldn’t imagine it.

She had offered sit at Vanyel’s bedside that afternoon so that Savil could nap; it hadn’t been difficult, exactly, Vanyel had lain still and stared into nothing. It really was disturbing. Shavri had tidied up her notes on the interrogation and then skimmed Savil’s copy of Seldasen’s treatise on ethics. It did have a lot of the same ideas. Seldasen hadn’t taken them as far, but he had pointed out the tradeoff between standard morality and the constraints of particular situations over and over and over. It made Shavri’s head hurt.

Everything hurt. She was so tired. But with Need at her side, it was easier. She hadn’t slept at all, last night – the sword had carried her all the way to Exile’s Gate, and she had turned back only when the last stars faded from a pearly sky. She had felt…not good, but strong. Untouchable. A woman alone in the worst neighbourhoods of Haven, and no one could have harmed her.

Need hadn’t prodded her to kill anyone. After that night two years ago, she had taken the sword in her lap and done the closest thing she could to lecturing Need about ethics, and then she had put the blade away in her chest and refused to take her out for a month, ignoring the increasingly desperate calls. Need hadn’t apologized in words, afterwards, she still didn’t really _talk_ to Shavri except for the occasional sarcastic aside, but somehow she had felt contrite.

 _We’re learning to work together._ She had no idea how to feel about it, but right now, she was grateful.

“Where’s Savil?” Tran muttered.

“They were getting Van settled with Lissa,” Shavri said. “They might be delayed.”

Randi winced visibly.

 _Stop feeling guilty at me._ That was unfair, he wasn’t really doing it ‘at’ her, but it still grated.

A distant knock.

“That’s probably them.” Shavri slipped down from the bed and padded out into the hallway. Opened the door.

“Sorry we’re late,” Savil said tonelessly.

“That’s fine. Come in.” She pointed them towards the bedroom. “Anything to drink?”

“Wine, please.”

“Tea for me,” Melody added. Her voice was flatter than usual, her eyes dull with fatigue, and there were visible lines of tension around her eyes and mouth.

Shavri bustled about, arranging chairs, bringing drinks. It gave her an excuse to avoid Randi’s plaintive eyes.

Randi massaged his forehead. “Let’s get started. Melody, how is he?”

Melody lowered the teacup from her lips. “Exhausted, and his emotions are all over the place.”

“He was begging me to help him kill himself,” Savil said harshly. “I don’t – he’s _never_ done that before.”

“That was only once, and he apologized after.” Melody’s voice was mild. “The mood swings are to be expected, from the block – he’s having a lot of trouble centering in his own mind. I let him push himself too hard during the questioning. Damn it, though, he convinces himself he’s fine and he even fools _me_ sometimes.”

 _I wish you had stopped it._ Though Randi might have counter-overruled Melody, no matter how badly he felt about it. Gods, it was all such a mess. There was a heavy, cold lump in Shavri’s throat.

“He didn’t want me to leave,” Savil said bitterly. “I promised I would be there when he woke up in the morning. Which I’m _not_ up for, damn it.”

“It made a lot of difference, having you there,” Melody said. “He feels safe with you. It’s why he was asking you and not me – he trusts you more.”

Savil flinched. Maybe Melody had intended those words to be reassuring, Shavri thought, but she could fully understand why it hadn’t come across that way.

Silence.

“Can we move on?” Tran said. “We need to talk about plans–”

“In a moment,” Randi said, not even glancing over. “Savil, listen – it’s not your fault. You can’t carry all of this.”

“No. I can’t.” Savil folded her arms, hugging herself. “But I can’t abandon him to deal with it on his own. Not after Yfandes already did that to him.”

Shavri closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. Melody had asked if she could be present when they took off the block, but Randi had already claimed her to help him prepare for this meeting, and her priorities were clear.

…Was that the true reason? Or had helping Randi just seemed easier?

“You’re doing an incredible amount, Savil,” she heard herself say. “But you need more support as well.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry the rest of us can’t help more. We’re all stretched thin.” Not having Vanyel contributing to his usual work was half the problem.

“Couldn’t we keep him drugged for a few days?” Tran offered.

“We _could,_ if we didn’t care about him being coherent and able to answer questions.”

“Could you use the block you invented again?” Shavri suggested, hesitant. “That was less disruptive, I thought.”

“If I wanted to risk unknown long-term effects. Which I would prefer to avoid.”

Randi lifted a hand, apologetic. “We’re talking in circles. I think we should come back to this. Tran, what’s on your list?”

Tantras shuffled his chair a few inches closer. “One. We need to cross-compare Van’s old notes with Shavri’s summary of the interrogation, for information we know Leareth has about us. Figure out which parts present real weaknesses, and patch them without making it obvious. Two. Savil needs to investigate if there are any changes we could make to the Web-alarms that might reduce our vulnerability. Three. We need to send a Herald south to find that cave, break the code on the Order of Astera records that we think belong to Leareth. Oh, and find the goddamned pass.”

“I already sent an agent north,” Randi reminded him. “We can’t send a major expedition unless we clear it with the Council.” A sigh. “Let’s approach that in order, then. Could you and Dara make a plan for the first one? She’s been quite good at that kind of work so far.”

Dara did show an aptitude for the type of research that Shavri herself found boring and repetitive. _Better her than me._ Randi had decided to leave the youngster out of tonight’s meeting and fill her in later on the parts she needed to know, but Shavri wasn’t sure she agreed with that choice. Dara had impressed her so far, and they were desperately shorthanded.

As if he had read her mind, Tantras lifted his head. “We need more hands on this, Randi. When are we going to bring in the rest of the Senior Circle?”

Her lifebonded ran a hand over his thinning hair. “The honest answer is ‘once Rolan approves of it’. He still wants us keeping this under wraps. I wish he’d _tell_ us what he knows that we don’t, but I do trust his judgement.”

“Should you?” Tran shot back. “I mean, if we’ve learned one thing from this, it’s that the Groveborn aren’t infallible.”

Shavri winced. It wasn’t false _,_ but she wished he would stop bringing it up; she found herself feeling obscurely protective of Taver, who had surely been trying his best to do right by Valdemar, and who wasn’t around to defend himself anymore.

The silent stretched out awkwardly.

“I’ll have a think about Web-alarms,” Savil said finally. Her face was mask-like again, revealing nothing. “I may be able to bring in Kilchas and Sandra without actually telling them the situation, if I present it in the abstract. Sandra’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to puzzles that catch her fancy.”

Randi nodded. “You have my permission, then. Thank you.”

His voice and expression were normal enough, but there was a shuttered look in his eyes that maybe only Shavri noticed. Retreating behind the mask and persona of a King, falling back on the structure it offered him. _I wish I knew what you were thinking, love._

He would tell her, of course, the moment she gave him half an ear once they were alone – and as soon as that happened, she would long to flee. _Why can’t I even do that one thing?_

Absently, she rested her fingertips on the hilt of the sword. Felt Need stir sleepily against her mind, a papery whisper. _:Be brave, Healer:_

There was something they were all talking around, and Shavri wasn’t sure what. The sheer enormity of it, maybe. _There’s a mage in the north and he wants to create a god._ It was preposterous, it send her mind gibbering in tiny circles, and she could feel it hanging between them. The unspoken horror.

But there was something more, and she couldn’t put her finger on it – it was in the spaces between words, the silent looks back and forth.

“Tran, I’d like you to work on a proposal for number three,” Randi went on. “Though I don’t personally think it’s so urgent, and neither does Rolan.”

“What’s he waiting for?”

“For them to find Yfandes, I imagine. He’s got every Companion out on circuit searching, though I don’t have the faintest idea what he has them telling their Heralds to explain it.” Randi paused, glanced around. “She still might come back of her own accord.”

Tran made a skeptical sound, but let it pass.

“We have a more pressing problem,” Melody said. “Savil, Shavri, you put it perfectly. Vanyel needs more support, and we’re all stretched too thin. I don’t know what to do about it. There just aren’t that many people he trusts. We’ve got Andrel, Lissa, and Medren helping out, but they’re not read in on the situation. I understand why you don’t want them to know, Randi, but it does present a challenge.”

Surely Vanyel had other friends. Shavri closed her eyes, racking her brain…

“Starwind and Moondance,” she said suddenly.

“What – oh, right.” Melody rubbed at the corner of her eye. “His friends with the Tayledras. Is that a possibility?”

“They don’t leave the Pelagirs,” Savil said, but there was a glint of hope in her expression. “Randi, would you consider sending the two of us–”

“Definitely not.” No hint of compromise in his voice. “We need both of you here.”

Savil nodded without speaking, the dawning light in her eyes vanishing. 

Shavri swallowed. “We should consider asking if they would come here. Three of us are Wingsiblings. They owe us something.” Enough to break with all precedent and leave their lands? Maybe. “Vanyel is one of their closest friends. Gods – at the very least they should _know._ ”

Tran cleared his throat. “I’m not sure we need anyone else here siding with Vanyel.”

“Tran, please.” Randi closed his eyes for a moment, and Shavri wondered if he was counting to ten in his head; _her_ blood was certainly threatening to boil.

She took another deep breath before daring to speak. “Tran, that’s not – they wouldn’t side with him against Valdemar, that doesn’t even make _sense_. They’re going to be just as horrified by this as us, but they have a bit more distance, and I think they can be there for Vanyel without condoning his actions.” It seemed it had gone that way with the blood-magic incident; she had, finally, put together the reason why Vanyel had urgently gone to k’Treva years back, that had coincided with her first trip. So much had happened, she had half forgotten the original justification.

Randi lowered his hands from his temples. “Shavri. It’s not a small thing, inviting them _here_. To our capital.”

“We can trust them.” 

Tran interjected again. “Can we? They’re not Valdemaran. They have different interests than we do, here.”

“Not really,” Savil said. “Leareth may not be threatening to invade them, but his final plan…” She trailed off.

“They already know about the initial Foresight dream,” Shavri made herself add. “The rest will be a shock, but I think they can take it calmly.” Damn it but they needed that. The constant tension in every meeting and conversation was wearing at her.

“I’ll consider it.” Randi dipped his head in her direction. “Thank you, Shavri.”

Shavri nodded back, even though she hated it when he fell back on that formal courtesy. Like he was acknowledging a stranger. _Just look at me, Randi. I’m here. Me._

Maybe she wasn’t, really. Maybe none of them were – everyone locked into their own thoughts, separately feeling that bottomless fear that no one dared bring into the open.

_I don’t know what to do._

“Let’s call it a night,” Randi said. He rubbed his eyes. “Tran, schedule a time to check in tomorrow, please. In the afternoon. Don’t think I’ll be good for much in the morning.” He sighed. “And fill Dara in on the basic summary. Use your discretion.”

Tran nodded, looking a little mollified. He liked feeling trusted and valued, Shavri thought, though she wasn’t sure she approved of how much Randi was putting on him. Even now, stress and long days took a toll on him.

 _:Tran:_ She reached out, tentative. _:None of that has to happen tonight. Get some sleep:_

 _:I’m fine:_ But there was gratitude in his mindvoice.

Melody stood. “I’m going to bed. Please don’t call me for anything before tomorrow morning unless it’s actually an emergency.”

Savil rose as well. “Goodnight, everyone.”

It seemed like everyone was going to be sensible and call it a night, at least. _We need to pace ourselves._ This wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

She heard Tran close the door, and they were alone. _Gods, I want to sleep._ Randi was yawning as well.

One more conversation.

“Tayledras,” Shavri said. “I think we should.”

“I don’t know,” her partner said slowly. “It’s fairly drastic. I’m not sure we’ve thought through the political consequences.”

His voice was level. Not the strange, ringing voice-of-command that sometimes slipped out of him, even by accident – and it was always unnerving when they were alone and he aimed that King’s tone at _her_ – but it didn’t, quite, feel like she was speaking to her lover either.

_Because that’s not what we have to be, right now._

“Then let’s,” she said, hearing that same considered thoughtfulness in her own voice.

Randi nodded, but said nothing.

 _Fine, I’ll start._ “The way the public sees Hawkbrothers is relevant,” she said. “Stories to frighten children into behaving, but…most people think it’s just stories. Even the lords on the Council, and they _know_ Van’s been there and so have I.” She touched the hilt of the sword, absently. “It might be good. To make that a little more real in people’s minds.”

“Let me think.” Randi lifted a hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’ll see Van as even less ordinary.”

“And Savil,” Shavri pointed out. “She knew them first.”

“Yes, but you know that’s not how it’ll go.” One corner of Randi’s lips rose in a wry smile. “She’ll be an afterthought.” He shook his head. “I don’t want any more attention on Van right now.”

Which was reasonable, and she should have thought of it. “We don’t have to make their visit public,” she said quietly. “Not right away.”

“You think we can hide them?”

“They are mages. If they have to, they can go everywhere under illusion-spell.”

Randi’s eyelids flickered, acknowledging the point, but still reluctant.

“Randi.” She met his eyes, squarely. “I know there are risks, but Van needs this. So does Savil.”

A frown-line appeared between his brows. “Savil?”

“She’s this close to snapping, Randi.” Did he not realize how much strain she was under?

“Oh.” Her lifebonded closed his eyes, and she could feel his thoughts moving. “I don’t know these people. You trust them?”

“With my life.” This time, she did reach out, laying her hand over his. “I’m a Wingsister to k’Treva, Randi. You know what that means.”

“Mmm.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Fine. I do trust your judgement about people. If you think this is something we can afford to do, I’ll listen.”

“I think it’s something we have to do.” She closed her eyes, confused by the heat that rose in her chest, the blazing certainty. Was it coming from Need, or from her? Did it matter? “And I know we don’t have any kind of official alliance with them, but I think we should talk about it. Randi, one way or another, there’s a war coming. I think we’re going to need their help.”

* * *

Yfandes.

Turning away a white shape vanishing into the darkness. _Don’t come after me_ , she had said, and he hadn’t.

‘Lendel. Hazy through a Gate, his back turned on Vanyel, blotting him out as he raised his hands one final time. His last breath, flung out into the world, turning the horizon to fire–

Everyone who had loved him, everyone who had promised never to hurt him, walking away.

Except Savil.

But she wasn’t there, right now. She had been there when he woke, like she had promised – yawning, bits of straw in her hair, she must have come straight from the Companions’ stables. Sleeping in the hay with Kellan, because her world had just fallen apart and she needed that scant comfort.

She hadn’t stayed long. Vanyel couldn’t blame her. _I’m the one who ruined everything._ Of course it was hard for her to be around him – he could tell, despite how hard she tried to shield her feelings from him.

 _Center and ground._ Vanyel took a shuddering breath, and tried for the thousandth time to focus on his surroundings, the grain of the tabletop under his palms, the hard pressure of the chair against his thighs. _Don’t push it away_ , Melody had told him. _If it hurts, let it. Just remind yourself where you are, and that you’re safe._

He was so tired.

“Van?” Andrel reached out. “You all right?”

 _Obviously not._ He pulled his hand back and took another breath, blinking away tears. “Fine,” he managed. _I hate this._ It was exhausting, trying to keep the pain off his face enough to avoid alarming Andy, and he was tired of it. Tired of hurting. And of not being able to do anything useful, damn it. It was already the fourth day that he had woken in Savil’s bed. Coming on five days that Yfandes had been gone. Decisions were happening around him, events were moving faster than he could keep up, and he couldn’t even track it, he was too busy dealing with the cracks in his mind. It seemed no one even wanted him involved anyway and he couldn’t blame them. Broken. Useless. Corrupted. Not to be trusted ever again…

–The gentle redirect caught him. _Be kind to yourself._ It was exactly the place where Yfandes would normally have stepped in, if she had been listening to his surface thoughts, and _that_ was more jarring than the redirect itself.

 _It will get easier_ , Melody had said, this morning, while he huddled in a corner of Savil’s bedroom, feeling like the walls and ceiling would collapse and crush him at any moment.

How could she know? It wasn’t like what was happening to him had ever happened before.

She’d tried to coax him to talk about it. What was there to say? Yfandes was gone. Maybe she was coming back; maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she would only come back long enough to repudiate him properly. In the meantime, there was a mage in the north preparing to march over Valdemar, and now Randi knew everything, and Vanyel didn’t know what that would change.

…Not everything. It was impossible to convey what he had learned from Leareth over fifteen years. No wonder Randi had looked at him with such carefully-hidden incredulity. _He must think I’ve lost my mind._

Or been suborned by the enemy, and that was so much worse.

Was he right?

It was like scrabbling against a perfectly smooth cliff, nothing to grip, too big to fit into his field of view.

“Van.” Andrel’s voice again, gentle, patient. “Eat your food, please.”

He looked down at his plate, which he had forgotten was there. Greens in cream-sauce, fresh crusty bread, sausage in pastry – all of his favourite things, and they tasted like ash in his mouth. “I’m not hungry.” His stomach churned again, fear and pain transmuted to nausea.

“I know. It is normal, not to be hungry when you’re upset. Can you try anyway?”

He wanted to slap Andrel’s concerned face. _Go away. Leave me alone._ But Andy didn’t deserve that – he was only doing Savil a favour, because she was needed somewhere else. Probably in a meeting talking about exactly what to do with Herald Vanyel who had betrayed his Kingdom.

He picked up his fork. Scraped together some greens, which seemed like the least unappetizing part. Lifted them to his mouth. Each motion took a deliberate effort of will.

_I want it to stop. I don’t want to exist anymore._

Let that thought drift pass, without attaching too much significance to it. _Don’t try to argue with your mind,_ Melody had said, and she had a point, because there wasn’t much of an argument he could make. Without Yfandes, he had so little left to build a house on.

There was a knock. Vanyel kept his shields clamped tight. If it was Savil, that was fine, but he didn’t want to brush minds with anyone else.

Andrel stood. “I’ll be right there.”

The door opened.

Vanyel stared. Blinked. _I must be dreaming._ If so, it was a happier dream than he’d had in months. “Starwind?” he breathed. “Moondance? What are you–”

Moondance’s bondbird took off from his shoulder, fluttering down to land on the back of the sofa. Vanyel pushed back his chair and started to stand, a moment before Moondance crossed the room in four strides and pulled him into his arms.

–Time skipped, and he found himself sobbing, clinging to Moondance’s chest. He struggled to breathe, to control himself, Andrel was still there and this was embarrassing, but he couldn’t.

 _:Brother:_ Moondance sent. _:I am sorry. I would have come sooner, had I known:_

 _:Why are you here?:_ Vanyel managed. It made no sense. _I thought they never left the Pelagirs._

Savil must have asked them to come. In which case, she must have told them. How much? Did Moondance know what he had done?

…Worry about it later. What mattered was that Moondance was _there_.

And Starwind’s mindvoice joined them – slow and halting, fading in and out until Moondance stabilized the link, but clear. Incredibly. _:Was an argument. Other elders not best pleased. But our Wingsister asks…:_ He trailed off.

 _:Savil said that you had great need of us:_ Moondance finished. _:The argument was not so long. Brightstar would not have forgiven us, I think, if we had not come. And I would not have forgiven myself:_ A pause. _:Brighstar wished to join us also, were there another Healing-Adept to take his place. Unfortunately, there is not. He passes on his regards:_ Finally, he seemed to realize that Vanyel’s attention was drifting. _:Time enough for conversation later. For now – I am here, brother. I am not going anywhere:_

* * *

“Wingsister.” Starwind sat cross-legged on the bed, looking steadily at her. “I am sorry. Is not an easy thing.”

Aysheena, perched on the headboard behind them, preened her feathers, one beady eye fixed on her bonded. Absently, Starwind reached out to scratch the down under her neck. He used his stronger left arm, Savil noticed, even though the angle was awkward; his right arm hung at his side. He had some movement, but she hadn’t seen him do anything with both hands.

He looked worlds better than the last time she had seen him. He moved slowly, but he was steady enough on his feet and didn’t limp too badly. He’d needed his stick, to walk all the way from the small chapel where she had raised the Gate to the Heralds’ wing, and she had been a little worried that he wouldn’t make it the whole way, but with Moondance’s help on the icy patches, he had.

He spoke more slowly, too, with long pauses to think, and sometimes slurred or forgot words. Sometimes he waved for her to slow down as well, unable to keep up – but he _was_ thinking, if not quite with his old speed and clarity.

Best of all, and incredibly, he could use Mindspeech again. It seemed to tire him, and his range was short, but that he could do it at all… He was shielding properly now, albeit clumsily. And he had showed her a mage-light, just a little one in his palm, with a slight smile that was still off-center – coming from Starwind, it might as well have been an ear-to-ear grin. It seemed to hurt him; he had released the magic, wincing and rubbing his temples, after only seconds; and it was clear that his control was still very shaky. He had confessed that he doubted he would ever be able to touch nodes again.

Nonetheless. _You’ve come so far, Starwind._ Further than anyone had expected at the time, and in little more than a year.

Maybe it was good he wouldn’t be using magic much. He knew about the _vrondi_ , but he had still found their watchful presence unnerving until she dismissed the alarm. She ought to teach Moondance the trick to calm them down, she reminded herself. The Web had some intelligence, but she wasn’t sure it would know to direct all the Moondance-related alarms to herself rather than Kilchas or Sandra.

–A tripping feeling in her thoughts. She had taught Mardic, who wasn’t properly in the Web, to settle the _vrondi_ down, and now she was thinking of teaching Moondance, who wasn’t a Herald at all. She would have assumed that no one could figure it out on their own, but Leareth wasn’t anyone ordinary… _Damn it._

“No,” she said out loud; the silence had already stretched out awkwardly long. “It’s not.” What else was there to say? She had just finished relating everything to him; she had given him and Moondance both the short version, before they crossed her Gate, but Moondance was with Vanyel now, comforting him as she hadn’t been able to. It galled her, but she _hadn’t_ been the best person to support him. She needed to sort out her own feelings first, and there hadn’t been time, only a few minutes snatched here and there with Kellan in the stables, and Kellan tried to hide it but she knew he was almost as overwhelmed and confused as she was.

Besides, there was one deep-buried question that she couldn’t bring to him. _Can we trust our Companions?_

She had been trying not to think about it – but Yfandes had left. Before that, Taver had told Vanyel to keep a horrifying secret from everyone. What did that mean?

For lack of a better place to go, they were in Van’s suite again. She hoped he wouldn’t mind.

“I wish to help,” Starwind said. “Any way I can. I would speak to your King. Planning must needs be done, and many questions to answer, but first. Other things.” The words came out a little disjointed, and he paused for a long time, lips moving silently. “You are troubled,” he said finally.

 _How perceptive of you._ Savil kept her sarcasm to herself.

Starwind reached for her hand. “Would help to speak of it, perhaps? To a friend. One less, not more, hurt than you.”

That was it, right there. She hadn’t wanted to put the burden of her own pointless, stupid feelings on anyone, not when all of them were struggling just to stay afloat. Even Melody was under more than enough pressure already.

“I would listen,” Starwind added. “I care for you, Wingsister. Do not like to see you suffer.”

Somehow, when nothing else had, that was what brought the tears to the surface. She wiped at her eyes. “Thank you.” Mindspeech would have been easier, it was hard to force out words past the pressure in her throat, but she didn’t want to wear Starwind out pointlessly.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, because she had no idea where to start.

“You are frightened?” Starwind guessed, his voice soft. “As am I. Yet, I think for you it strikes closer. Not only danger. Your Vanyel did not speak of this to you. For many years. You are hurt. Confused? Perhaps angry.”

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. “I…don’t want to be. Angry, that is. It’s the last thing he needs from me, right now, and…” She bit her lip, pushing down the confused, writhing mass in her chest. “He really was trying to do the right thing, Starwind. And he’s trying so, so hard to hold himself together. He told me this that – that he would come to our meeting today, if Randi wanted. To answer any questions we had. That he thought he could manage it.” She shook her head. “Randi doesn’t particularly want him involved in our sensitive planning right now, though, and Melody vetoed it anyway. He clearly _isn’t_ up for it.” His moods were less chaotic this morning, and he had apologized to her again for his words the night before, but he was still breaking down in tears at random intervals. Not something they needed in a strategy-meeting, when everyone was already on edge.

Tantras had muttered something rude under his breath when she relayed that message, and Savil had very, very badly wanted to throw him into a wall.

“It must be very difficult for him,” Starwind said, sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine it.” She lifted her shoulder, wiping her eyes on her tunic. “Damn it, I promised. All I want to do is make this easier, and I can’t. I can’t even be therem I’m stuck in meetings all day, and I know I mustn’t lose sleep.” Last night she had gone to Kellan’s stall, and though she had woken up sore all over with a crick in her neck, it had been a lot more restful than trying to fall asleep in her spare-room, waiting for Vanyel’s next nightmare.

That was one good thing about Randi, she thought. In Elspeth’s time, something like this would have meant long days and late nights for everybody, but Randi knew how badly he needed his own rest, and he set the tone for everyone else.

“Your duties pull in other direction.” Starwind’s face was solemn. “I am sorry.” 

“It’s not just that.” She bowed her head. “I want to _shake_ him, Starwind. I shouldn’t be angry but I am.” And under the heat of it, there was a deep well of hurt, lurking where she couldn’t look at it head-on. _You betrayed me, ke’chara._ Maybe it wasn’t fair of her, but it was how she felt.

 _You need to own it_ , Melody had said, _and keep it inside._ There would be time for recriminations later.

What later?

Damn it, there were so many things she was keeping in. So many things all of them were holding back. Randi’s face was a closed window in their meetings; she couldn’t read his feelings, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I feel like I can’t talk to anyone,” she said dully. “I mean, we’re talking,” candlemarks and candlemarks of it, “but it’s not the same.”

Starwind nodded. “It has shaken your trust, and not only in Vanyel.”

That…wasn’t false. If Van could keep this to himself for fifteen years, what secrets might be lurking behind other faces, waiting to spring out at them? Gods, and if ‘Fandes could keep Van’s secret for him, then what might the other Companions be hiding?

And if Yfandes could walk away from her Chosen…could Kellan walk away from her?

So many things she had taken for granted, the foundation of what it meant to be a Herald, dissolving under her feet.

“Something you must needs face,” Starwind went on. “There is hurt. It festers, and must be lanced.”

“I mean, yes. Someday.” She closed her eyes again. Why did it hurt so much? “No time now.”

“You wish to put it to the future.” Starwind squeezed her hands between his. “Always the temptation. Wait until the fight is won. And yet. I think, this fight is not to be won in a day. Or a month. Will need that trust in one another.”

He had a point. “I don’t…” She trailed off. _We can’t fix it. Nothing’s going to be the same._ And it was so, so tempting to blame Van for all of it.

“Cannot go back,” Starwind said, very quietly. “Only forward.”

He was starting to slur his words. “Starwind, are you getting tired?” Gods, but she was. Raising a Gate wasn’t the trial it had once been, but she had been exhausted going into it and she hadn’t wanted to pull Shavri in for concert-work.

“A little.” He shook his head. “I tire quickly. Is frustrating.”

“You should rest.” She hesitated, and then reached out, touching his cheek, and forced out the words that came hard to her even now. “Starwind, I can’t say how happy I am to see you. I’m so, so glad that you survived what happened.” It felt very awkward to say out loud. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“Not easy, yet worth it.” A distant, wondering look in his eyes, staring past her into the distance, and his hand absently reached for Aysheena again. “A gift, to be in this world. Every moment. I…had forgotten. I would go back and change it, could I. Of course. And yet…is a gift also.” He blinked, eyes glittering suspiciously. “Enough. To be alive. To be with my _shay’kreth’ashke._ Everything more… A miracle.”

 _Oh._ Savil felt tears coming to her own eyes. She had never heard Starwind sound like this.

He grimaced. “I have grown sentimental.”

“Maybe a little.” The snicker escaped before she could stop it, but Starwind laughed as well, quietly and sadly. And then yawned.

Savil pulled away. “We’ll find the two of you a guest suite in the Palace. For now, you can rest here.”

* * *

He was so warm.

For a long moment, Vanyel lay with his eyes closed, not quite asleep, not quite awake. _I was having such a nice dream._ The void lurked, waiting for him, but something held it at bay. Something – no, someone – cupped his mind, surrounding him with a quiet song of peace and stillness. A warm weight wrapped his body. Familiar, a green-gold ribbon…

Not a dream, then. Moondance was really there.

 _:Moondance?:_ he sent, sleepily.

 _:I am here, Wingbrother:_ The soothing presence reached in closer. A moment later, he realized that the band of warmth across his back was Moondance’s arm. He was horizontal, under a blanket, lying with his head on his friend’s chest.

He wrenched his eyes open and wriggled free. _:Gods, I’m sorry. Did I just go to sleep on you?:_ He didn’t remember falling asleep. Only sitting on the side of the bed with Moondance’s arms around him, unable to make himself stop crying.

And, right now, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed about either half. Moondance understood. He hadn’t tried to say anything, only offered the full rapport of his mind. Vanyel wasn’t sure he would have accepted that from anyone else, even Savil, but it had felt like a gift.

It made such a difference. Moondance wasn’t angry with him, and that was a miracle.

 _:Do not be sorry:_ Moondance lifted his head from the pillow, mouth solemn, belying the twinkle in his blue eyes. _:I am glad to be here:_

He really, really was – you couldn’t lie with Mindspeech, and the overtones of affection and concern were clear.

Vanyel sat up, shedding the blanket.

 _:Stop!:_ Moondance sent, half-laughing. _:I was finally warm enough. You live in a very cold country:_

It was true that even with a fire burning in the hearth, and with the thick stone walls of the Palace between them and the snow, the room was much chillier than inside a Vale.

 _:I can’t believe you’re really here:_ Vanyel sent. _:Wasn’t sure it was possible for you to leave the Pelagirs:_

 _:I confess, before now I had not tested it:_ Moondance sat up as well, reaching for one of the many knitted coverlets that Savil had dug out and added to the bed at some point. It made for a cozy nest.

Vanyel yawned and stretched, the chill air bringing goosebumps to his skin. _:Did you ask Starwind if he minded you getting in bed with me?:_ he sent.

…Remarkable, that he could find it in himself to tease Moondance even a little.

 _:He does not mind:_ Moondance was busy wrapping himself in the blanket. _:You were in need of comfort. My shay’kreth’ashke is with our Wingsister:_

 _:I’m glad:_ Savil had seemed badly in need of reassurance, and there was none he could offer, given that he was the main source of her problems. _:I am sorry, though. Don’t know why I keep falling asleep like this:_ It was humiliating. He had done it to Medren as well. It didn’t make sense _._ Usually he couldn’t sleep in the daytime even when he wanted to.

 _:It is a tiring thing, to fight your own thoughts:_ Moondance reached out, gently caressing his hair. _:Your heart-sister shares her strength, when she is with you, and she is not here now:_

They were talking around something; Vanyel could almost feel the pressure of it in the room with them, looming in the edges of his vision. _You know what I did._ Moondance hadn’t brought it up. Vanyel wanted to – he longed to have it in the open – but he didn’t have the courage to start that thread.

Moondance’s hand slid down to Vanyel’s neck, pressing down, digging into muscles he had forgotten were tense. _:Relax:_ the Healing-Adept sent. _:The burden you carry is with your mind, not your body:_

That was true. Holding his shoulders ready for a blow wasn’t going to help against this threat.

 _:Lie down:_ Moondance sent, patting the covers. _:You are still so tense:_

The backrub Moondance gave him held nothing back. More than once, Vanyel squirmed and protested – he hadn’t realized how inexplicably sore he was, all over, and Moondance wasn’t being gentle at _all_ – but his friend only held him down, firmly, murmuring reassurance. And in some sense, the sheer physical discomfort was a blessing. It fixed him to his body, gave him an anchor, and made it a great deal easier to ignore the wall of ice where Yfandes had been.

At the end of it, the relief nearly carried him into sleep again. He lay like a wrung-out dishrag, cheek pressed to the blankets. The tension-headache he hadn’t realized he had was finally gone.

Finally, he remembered how to sit up. _:Thank you. I needed that:_

 _:You were as a bowstring pulled taut for days:_ Moondance’s blue eyes met his, somehow serious and sparkling at the same time. _:Better, now?:_

 _:A lot better:_ To his surprise. He couldn’t, quite, say that he felt good, or happy – but he felt almost like himself again. 

_:What would you like to do now?:_

It was a question he hadn’t bothered asking himself in days. _:I don’t know:_ The sun was setting, red-gold through the curtains, and he had the vague thought that it was pretty.

He hadn’t found anything pretty since she left.

Yfandes. She was still gone, and the pain was still there, still sharp and present. And other hurts. Savil’s face going blank, not quite concealing shock and horror. Randi’s eyes on him, his distant courtesy, but he hadn’t quite been able to hide the guilt and sympathy, and that was somehow worse than horror. _Don’t pity me._

And the questions his King had asked, revealing just how much had changed between them. _Would you ever go north and join Leareth, against my orders?_

But he was made of more than just pain, and there were other things he could focus his attention on. Like his hair, which he hadn’t washed or combed in four days. It was matted to his head, greasy and lank. He must have been a hideous sight.

 _:A bath:_ he sent. _:I would very much like a bath:_

There was still a reckoning ahead. Still so many problems to be dealt with, and maybe they were insurmountable. But it could wait. For the first time since Yfandes had walked away into the snowy night, he could think about a tomorrow morning.

* * *

_:Come in:_ The gentle Mindtouch, full of warmth, reached her even before she had touched Savil’s door.

It proved to be unlocked, and Shavri balanced the tray she had begged from the kitchen on her hip and let herself into the suite. “Moondance, Van…?”

Vanyel was curled up on Savil’s sofa, wrapped in a robe, looking damp and freshly-scrubbed; he made eye contact with her, and almost smiled. Moondance stood behind him, a comb in his hands.

She nudged the door shut with her shoulder, but left it unbolted. “You look well, Moondance. So does Starwind.” Who she had just gotten settled in one of the Palace guest-suites; he needed a night’s rest before he would be up for meeting. So did Randi.

Shavri should have been there. Half-pleading, her lifebonded had asked her to stay, and she had made some excuse about work to be done. Which was a lie; her mind was too frazzled to focus on anything.

“Vanyel, brother,” Moondance said, “could you lean this way? I cannot reach.”

Vanyel grimaced as the comb caught in a snarl. “Ow.”

“I am sorry. I try to be gentle, but it is very tangled.”

“I’ve brought some food for both of you,” Shavri set, shoving together some papers on Savil’s little table to make room. “Van, I know you probably aren’t hungry, but you need to eat. I’ll make you some herb-tea to settle your stomach.”

The suite was a mess, and while the water was heating over the hearth, Shavri moved around the room, absently tidying, even taking the broom from the corner and sweeping the floor. It gave her hands something to do. Savil must not have let anyone in to clean for days.

 _:You are troubled:_ Moondance sent.

 _What an impressive deduction._ Shavri kept that snarky thought to herself. _:Yes:_ she acknowledged. _:This is a lot:_

 _:I would imagine:_ Moondance carefully held a chunk of Vanyel’s wet hair by the roots, dragging the comb through it. _:I wish that I might help:_

 _:You’re helping just by being here:_ Melody had been able to take the entire afternoon off; she had seemed almost cheerful when she swung by the office of the King’s Own.

The kettle was boiling; eager for the distraction, Shavri dug in her pocket for the small cloth packet she had brought over from Healers’, measured out two pinches into a cleanish cup. She took the cover from the tray, added the teacup to it, and carried it over to the sofa, balancing it on her lap as she sat. “Van, drink that, please.”

“Mmm.” He sipped unenthusiastically, then selected a soft bread-roll and nibbled on it.

The silence stretched out, like a needle and thread pulled taut, waiting for the next stitch.

“Moondance?” Shavri said. “How’s Brightstar?”

A brief smile. “He is well. I cannot believe he is already nearly grown. He covers as Healing-Adept in my absence.”

Doing an adult’s work, at fourteen. It seemed incredibly to Shavri – but, then again, Brightstar was a whole year older than the current heir to the throne of Valdemar. Treven was still in the standard Heraldic classes at the new Collegium, but he had started young and advanced quickly; a year from now, he might well be ready to sit at Randi’s side in Council meetings.

Which was good, because unless she made some new breakthrough, soon, Randi had less than five years to live.

 _Don’t think about it now._ She had a new bottomless abyss to deal with. No time to lose herself in the old, familiar one.

“And your Jisa?” Moondance asked in return. “I wish I might see her.”

“She would love to see you, but I’m afraid I don’t trust her to keep a secret just yet, and your visit is that,” Shavri answered, apologetically. “She’s doing very well. Still training with Melody…”

They made awkward small talk for several minutes. Vanyel even asked a few questions about the Vale, in between obedient bites of bread and soup.

Moondance set the comb aside, and perched on the arm of the sofa. He was so _calm_. No wonder Van was less tense with him nearby; Shavri could feel herself unwinding as well.

 _:Moondance?:_ she sent cautiously, along a private link. _:Aren’t you angry about what he did?:_

His eyes rested on her. _:Angry? No. Terrified, yes, and it grieves me, but now is not the time for my feelings:_ He reached out, resting a hand on Vanyel’s shoulder, and Van leaned into his touch. _:I am here for our Wingbrother:_

Was it that easy for him, to set aside the horror and focus on the needs of the moment? To her, it seemed as impossible as flying.

And they still weren’t talking about it, not really; they were ducking around the enormity of it, of everything, and she could feel the weight of it on her skin. Crushing her. It felt like she couldn’t fill her lungs properly; the familiar, comfortable room was starting to seem claustrophobic.

Vanyel yawned, trying and failing to hide it behind his hand.

“You are tired,” Moondance said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Vanyel muttered. “I slept all afternoon.”

“Do not argue with your body.” Moondance’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I must needs go to my _shay’kreth’ashke,_ but I would stay with you a while until you sleep.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I do not mind.” Moondance slipped down lightly from the sofa, and held out a hand. “Come, brother.”

Vanyel grumbled something, but let himself be guided to Savil’s bedroom.

 _:Where is our Wingsister Savil?:_ Moondance sent. _:He does not want to ask, but her presence would do him good:_

 _:I don’t know:_ Shavri had tried and failed to find Savil with Thoughtsensing just before coming over. She might be in one of the Work Rooms, or just shielding hard; either way, she clearly didn’t want to be interrupted. Maybe she was with Sandra or Kilchas, making up some kind of excuse for them to review the Web-alarms. In the brief meeting they had squeezed in that afternoon, Randi had been annoyed that she hadn’t yet found time to start.

Shavri could guess that time wasn’t the issue, there.

 _:It pains her to see him:_ Moondance guessed.

 _:Maybe. Probably:_ He was too damned perceptive sometimes. _:I can go look for her:_

 _:No. I would not force her:_ Moondance had coaxed Vanyel into taking off his robe and slippers and crawling into the bed; even for that simple action, he needed to be prompted at each step. Moondance pulled the covers over him, then sat at the head of the bed and trailed a hand over his hair.

Shavri let her gaze drift to the window, staring longingly at the quietly-falling snow outside. It felt like she was suffocating; more than anything, she wanted to flee back to the relative comfort of her own rooms. To Jisa. But it might make all the difference to Van, staying a few minutes longer. Moondance had been here all goddamned afternoon. Surely she could manage another half-candlemark.

She took a deep breath, settled into the chair next to the bed, and reached out. Vanyel took her hand, gratefully, and closed his eyes.

She felt Moondance reached for her mind again. _:There is conflict in you. Shavri, Wingsister… I am your friend as well. Would you speak of it to me?:_

It was the first time anyone but Melody had asked how she was feeling. She almost told him to leave it alone, to focus on Vanyel…but, damn it, surely she had earned this much.

 _:I don’t know:_ Her eyes burned, and she tightened her directional shields. _:Everything. Moondance, I don’t know where we go from here:_ She shivered. _:I miss Randi. He’s right there, but…:_ She trailed off.

 _:There is pain between you:_ Moondance’s mindvoice held only sympathy and curiosity, no judgement. _:This thing has shaken the foundations of all you believe in:_

 _:That’s exactly it:_ Her breath hitched. She forced her shoulders to relax, rolling her neck from side to side. _:Moondance, it’s not just me and Randi – it’s like no one is talking to each other. Not really. I mean, we’re having meetings, we’re making plans, but – this is so big. It changes everything, and no one wants to say that out loud:_ As though speaking of it would make it real, and she was as guilty of that as anyone.

 _:It is a difficult thing:_ Moondance agreed. _:There is fear and anger and mistrust, among all of you, and that is understandable. Yet this is the time at which you most need that trust:_ He paused, searching for words. _:You are – your Valdemar is – an ekele built out of one of another:_

It was a strange phrase, but she thought she knew what he meant. He had given name to the wordless sense-of-something-wrong that hat haunted her for days. Like everything was slowly falling apart.

 _:I know:_ she sent, blinking away hot tears. _:Moondance, I don’t know what to do:_

 _:You will find a way:_ With his free hand, Moondance reached out and squeezed her arm. _:One day at a time. And I am here to help:_ A pause. _:I think he is asleep now:_

Vanyel’s breathing had deepened, and he didn’t stir when Moondance carefully stood up.

 _:Moondance, you can go:_ Shavri sent. _:I’ll stay until Lissa gets here:_ Moondance had been apart from Starwind all afternoon and evening. It only seemed fair.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this is a double update - make sure you read chapter 9 first! 
> 
> CW for an authentic relating / Circling flavored conversation.

_I so don’t want to go in there._ Savil stood outside her own door, staring blankly at the knob.

It was morning, the fifth day. For the first time since all of this had began, Savil felt something like well-rested. And like she was making progress. She had spent two candlemarks working through Van’s old notes on the Web-theory, while Starwind was napping; it made such a difference just having him nearby. He was one of her oldest friends; she had known him for forty years, since she was a young woman. Longer even than Andrel, and unlike Andy, she could actually _talk_ to him about what was happening.

She had reached out to the Healer anyway after his shift ended at the House of Healing; they had eaten a late supper together, only interrupted by two Web-alarms, and without either of them speaking about it, she had ended up sharing his bed for the night. It was a lot more comfortable than sleeping out in the stables with Kellan, which was the other option she had been considering.

She should have gone to Vanyel, but she hadn’t been able to face the thought, and had tried to assuage her guilt by reminding herself that he had Moondance with him. She had to go back to her rooms sooner or later, though. All her clean uniforms were in there.

 _Pull yourself together, Herald._ Leaning into Kellan’s soothing presence in the back of her mind, she lifted her hand and knocked.

Lissa answered the door, rumpled and yawning. “Morning, aunt. Come on in. Moondance just got here.” Fatigue blurred her voice.

Blinking, Savil followed her niece. “Um, is Van up?” The bedroom door was wide open, and Lissa wasn’t making any attempt at keeping her voice down.

Lissa stretched, yawned again, and meandered towards the fireplace. “He’s awake, but he won’t get out of bed.”

“Oh.” Savil frowned. “Bad night?”

“Pretty bad.” Lissa turned, worried eyes resting on Savil. “Not like night before last, that was _scary_. He was up every couple of candlemarks with nightmares, though, poor thing.” She hesitated. “Savil…is Melody making any progress on figuring out what’s wrong?”

Savil froze, clamping down on her expression. It was the first time Lissa had asked any questions. _I almost forgot she didn’t know._

Lissa fidgeted with her sleeve. “I know it’s not really my business, just, I hate seeing him like this.”

“I know.” Savil sighed. “Me too.” She reached out, clapped Lissa on the shoulder. “I really appreciate your helping out. It means a lot.”

“I couldn’t not.” Lissa twitched into motion, bent to retrieve the burbling kettle. “Tea?”

“Please.”

How long could they go without telling her? It wasn’t fair to her. _I’ll ask Randi,_ Savil resolved. Stifling her own yawn – damn it, it was contagious – she wandered over to the bedroom with her tea.

“Wingsister.” Moondance nodded to her, then turned back to the nest of blankets. “Vanyel, your aunt is here.”

She didn’t quite catch his mumbled answer; he had pulled the covers over his head. She remembered how he used to do that back in the early days in k’Treva, sixteen years ago, when he was having a particularly bad day. Hiding from the world.

“Van, _ke’chara_.” She crossed the room, sat down on the side of the bed. “Hey. I’m here.”

No answer. _Be patient._ Lissa hovered in the doorway, swaying slightly.

Savil caught her eye. “Liss, go to bed. We’ve got it covered.”

“All right. I’ll be back tonight, same time. Should I call for breakfast? I forgot.”

“No, it’s fine.” Savil had already eaten with Andy – as usual, he had been up at the crack of dawn for his shift. “Sleep well.”

The door closed behind her. Silence fell.

Minutes later, the bundle of blankets finally stirred. Vanyel emerged slowly, eyes red and puffy, a shadow of uneven stubble all around his jawline – he had never needed to shave often, but it had been five days. It wasn’t a particularly good look on him.

“Sorry,” he said thickly.

“Don’t be.” Savil forced her lips into a smile. “You can stay in bed all day if you want, Van, it’s all right–”

Something convulsed in his face, and he turned half away from her. “No. It isn’t.”

 _Why do I always put my foot in it?_ Savil took a breath, let it out. “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“You don’t have to stay,” he mumbled finally, chin tucked into his chest. “I know…you’ve got things to do.”

It was an opening for her to agree. There probably was something else she ought to be doing – but neither Shavri nor Tran had reached out to her yet, they didn’t have a time for their next meeting, and she wasn’t scheduled to cover anything else until the afternoon. There were the projects Randi had given her, picking apart the Web-alarm settings, sorting through Van’s past advice on security, but she didn’t actually want to do that either.

 _Be brave._ “No. Not right now.” She let her hand rest on the covers a few inches from his. “ _Ke’chara,_ you’re important too.”

He didn’t reach for her. “It’s fine. I can manage.”

 _Why are you making this so hard?_ Savil found herself gritting her teeth, and forced her jaw to relax. “I know. But you don’t have to. I promised.”

Vanyel didn’t answer, only curled into himself, cupping his hands over his face. Savil lifted her tea to her lips. How had that been the wrong thing to say?

Moondance was the one who finally broke the silence. “Savil, Vanyel. May I say a thing?”

“Hmm?” Savil let the teacup drift down to her lap.

“There is pain between you.” The Healing-Adept pulled his chair closer, pulling his legs up and crossing them. “You care deeply for one another. I know this. And yet there is a wound that festers in the dark. You cannot truly see or hear one another, when it lies between you. I would like that we could speak of it, and bring that hurt where we can see it.” He rested his hands on his knees. “I cannot claim it will be easy. But it grieves me, to see you pulled apart. I wish to help.”

It wasn’t at all what Savil had expected, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, the words replaying in her mind. _There is a wound that festers in the dark._ How could he describe it so perfectly?

Vanyel was having one of the worst weeks of his life, and she couldn’t even be around him, no matter what promises she had made. Talking about it to his face sounded impossible, and like it couldn’t possibly help, but she trusted Moondance, and she owed it to her nephew to try.

“Of course,” she said quietly.

“Vanyel?”

Her nephew lowered his hands. “If you want,” he said, no expression at all in his voice.

 _:It will be easier with Mindspeech:_ Moondance pulled them both into the link. She felt Vanyel resist at first, and then relax into it.

 _:There are things I would say first:_ Moondance sent to both of them, drawing them in closer, a more intimate meld than the formal Mindspeech protocols called for. _:You are both hurt, and it would be easy to lash out. To lay blame – and that is not our purpose here:_ A pause. _:Nor to make plans. There will be a time for that, later, but not now:_

Vanyel sat rigid, every muscle in his body locked in tension, but he held himself open to the link. Naked. He expected it to hurt, Savil thought. _He thinks he deserves it._

 _:You will speak for yourself alone:_ Moondance added, _:and only of the here-and-now. Not the past, or the future. Do you understand?:_

Savil wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded slowly.

 _:There is a format I would have you use:_ Moondance went on. _:To start, name what you are feeling, and you can tell a story of why. Then I would like you to let the other respond, and say how it feels to hear it:_

It sounded terrifying, but Vanyel wasn’t running away. If he could be that brave, surely she could as well.

 _:Savil:_ Moondance sent. _:Wingsister. What are you feeling, in this moment?:_

Too many things to describe. That she wished he wouldn’t make her go first, mostly. _:I don’t know:_

Moondance reached for her shoulder. _:Anchor in your body. Not the story you have rehearsed before now, for how you ought to feel – what do you feel here-and-now? Try to give it words, and see if they feel right:_

Savil closed her eyes. There was an itchy restlessness in her gut – she found herself wanting to move. To get up and run, mostly.

Focus. _:I feel anxious:_ she sent. That felt…not wrong, but not everything. _:Frustrated. Trapped:_

Moondance nodded, understanding. _:And when you look at our Wingbrother, what do you feel?:_

She wrenched her eyes open, forced them to rest on Vanyel’s face. He wasn’t looking at her, but she could feel his mind through the link, how he started to flinch away but stopped himself.

 _:My chest feels tight. Like something is pulling inside me. I feel…afraid, I think:_ There was an unsteadiness that surged when she thought that word, made her want to grab for the nearest solid surface. _:I feel helpless. Lost:_

Moondance’s blue eyes held no judgement, only warmth. _:Could you tell a story, Wingsister, of why you feel that way?:_

She didn’t want to, but maybe Moondance was right – maybe it was better to have it out in the open. _:I’m scared that I don’t know you anymore, ke’chara:_ she sent. _:That nothing is ever going to be the same. That you’ve changed, that he changed you – that I can’t trust you now:_ Her breath hitched, catching on the tension that threatened to tear her apart. _:I’m scared that I’ll have to choose. Between you and the Kingdom:_

There. It was said. The words she hadn’t really dared to think, even to herself, before now. She felt Vanyel’s reaction – pain, a surge of sick fear, but something loosening as well.

 _:Vanyel:_ Moondance sent, reaching out to grip his hand. _:How does it feel, to hear that?:_

He lifted his head. _:It stings. I’m scared too, Savil. That I’ll have to do this alone, and I can’t–:_ He broke off, his breath shuddering. _:But relieved as well. I mean, I already knew. That you have to feel that way, I understand why, it’s the only reasonable response… I’m glad you’re not trying to hide it, that you can say it to my face. Not knowing for sure was worse:_

He really was relieved, Savil thought, that was the remarkable part. Something seemed to have loosened in her as well. She didn’t feel like running away anymore.

Only heavy, and tired, and her body ached.

 _:You feel something different, now:_ Moondance observed.

 _:I feel sad:_ Her own weight seemed to pin her to the bedspread. _:Ke’chara, I know it isn’t fair to you, to feel as betrayed as I do, I know you were only doing what Yfandes and Taver said, but… It still hurts:_ Surprising how easy it was, to lay out those words between them.

 _:I’m sorry:_ Vanyel was actually looking at her now, his eyes wet. _:I think it is fair. It was still my choice, to trust their advice above what I wanted to do, what felt right to me. And, later on… I wasn’t brave enough. I knew you would be angry:_

Savil could see that. It would only have gotten harder as the years passed, the weight of that secret growing heavier. A gulf between them that she hadn’t even noticed growing.

 _:Are you angry now?:_ he sent, almost pleading.

 _:No:_ To her own surprise. _:I was, before:_ Focus on what she was feeling in her body. There was a squirmy heat… _:Maybe I still am, but not with you, ke’chara. I guess I’m angry at the world. At the gods, for putting this much on you:_

Vanyel’s lips twitched in a bitter almost-smile. _:You’re not the only one, aunt:_

 _:Oh, ke’chara:_ Her eyes were burning now, the room fracturing through a film of tears. _:I wish–:_ What did she wish for? She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve _:I don’t know. That things were simple again. That the world made any sense at all:_

Vanyel ducked his head. _:I’ve been wishing that since I was sixteen:_

Half his life, that he had carried this. And she had been there, the whole time, but she still couldn’t begin to imagine what it had been like.

 _:Vanyel:_ Moondance sent. _:Would you speak of how you feel?:_

He closed his eyes, a dozen expressions flickering across his face, too quick for Savil to guess at. _:Cold:_ he sent. _:Empty. Like there’s no solid ground under me, and I’m never going to stop falling… I miss Yfandes and it hurts so much. I’m terrified:_

Moondance’s mindvoice was gentle. _:What do you fear, brother?:_

 _:…Losing everything:_ Vanyel’s hands were clamped together in front of him, knuckles turning white. _:That I did the wrong thing, and it’s my fault. That I…deserve…to have everyone leave:_

Savil rocked back as the frantic loneliness in his mindvoice. _:Ke’chara, no. You don’t deserve that. Even if you made a mistake:_

Even if that mistake had cost them the future of the Kingdom?

Even then, the quiet voice in her whispered.

Like a foundation of granite that she hadn’t even known was there. It didn’t negate the fear, the conflict in her, but it didn’t crumble under it either.

Moondance touched her shoulder. _:Savil, sister, I saw a thing shift in you. Would you speak of what you are thinking?:_

She nodded; to her own surprise, she wanted to say it. _:Maybe my worst fears are true:_ she sent, slowly and carefully – it felt important, to choose the right words. _:Maybe he has changed you, and we can’t trust your judgement. Doesn’t matter. I love you, ke’chara, that’s not conditional on anything. I believe you were trying to do the right thing, and you’re still trying. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it – I won’t abandon you to deal with this alone:_

There was still the sliver of doubt – that she was wrong, that Vanyel was compromised beyond salvage – but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the conclusion. She couldn’t turn her back on him now, any more than she could stop her heart from beating.

Vanyel sagged, breathing out in a quiet sigh.

 _:What are you feeling now, brother?:_ Moondance sent.

 _:Grateful:_ There was wonder in his mindvoice, layered over the pain and loneliness. _:I can’t do this on my own. I still – I don’t know if I can do this at all, and I’m scared of failing. Of making the wrong choice. The stakes are so much higher than just Valdemar:_ He lifted his eyes to meet Savil’s. _:I know it’s not fair to ask of you, but I wish we could talk about it. About him. I need help thinking it through:_

The buzzing confusion rose in her again, like black smog filling her mind, but she was big enough to hold it. _:You have the right to ask for that, ke’chara:_ she acknowledged. There was a sick weight in her belly. Shame. _:I’m sorry. It’s hard to think about, right now. But…I can try:_ He had earned that much from her, surely.

 _:Might I say a thing?:_ Moondance jumped in. He leaned forward. _:Savil, Wingsister, I think you are not ready yet. This is a very big change, and it is too fresh. You need time for your mind to settle:_ He turned to look at her nephew. _:And, Vanyel – I think you are not ready either. It causes you great pain, to think of it, and it is tangled up in fear and loss. That is why I think now is not the time to plan:_

Vanyel managed a shaky nod. _:You’re probably right:_

 _:There will be time later. It is not so urgent, that a decision must be made in candlemarks:_ Moondance glanced back and forth between the two of them. _:I know it is not easy, to have it unresolved – to sit with that uncertainty and strain, and still know that you care deeply for one another. But the love that lies between you is strong enough to bear it:_

Lean into that granite-solid certainty. Savil held out her arms. _:Van, ke’chara…:_

He let her pull him in, resting his head on her shoulder. _:Savil. I’m glad you’re here:_

* * *

Dara sat with her legs curled under her, sliding her finger down the list she had made on her slate. During their quick meeting a candlemark ago, Randi had asked her to look over the schedule of commitments for the next month ahead and figure out how to rearrange it on the assumption that they wouldn’t have Vanyel for any of it.

It made sense to her – five days in, Vanyel wasn’t any closer to functional – but it made her feel sad, because that wasn’t the only reason. _Even if she comes back,_ Tran had pointed out, _I’m not sure we can trust either of them at this point._

And Randi hadn’t argued, only nodded.

It wasn’t going to be easy, because Vanyel had been doing so much. There was a six-month waiting list for various projects involving magic, and Dara was going to need Savil’s help figuring that out, because she couldn’t just swap in other people one-to-one. Vanyel could do things alone that even Savil would need to do as concert work, and he could do a lot more in a single day without exhausting himself. Sandra was actually more skilled than him at fine, delicate work, Savil said, but she would tire quickly if they asked her to do anything big and flashy, like demolishing the old watch-tower by Exile’s Gate. Kilchas could manage that sort of work, but he didn’t have the control to do weather-magic reliably – he could work in concert with Sandra, offering his power for her to control, but that meant Dara needed to block off the time for both of them at once, and those were candlemarks that they couldn’t be covering Web-alarms, or in meetings. 

And that was just the mage-work. In addition, Vanyel covered audiences for Randi, and ran quite a lot of meetings with visiting representatives from outlying landholdings and various guilds. His reputation meant he was good at intimidating them, Savil had said. Often those meetings were about requests for mage-work, so Kilchas or Sandra were the natural choices to cover them, except that Sandra in particular was, in Savil’s words, ‘useless at anything political’, and Kilchas ‘had never heard of tact.’ Dara actually liked his bluntness, but she could see why he might not be the best choice for sensitive negotiations.

Which meant Dara had to put Savil in for most of them, or else someone who wasn’t even a mage, like Keiran – whose schedule was already packed for months into the future.

To make it even worse, she was alone in the office of the King’s Own, and people kept knocking on the door and asking her questions. The surprising part was that often she knew the answers! The rest of the time, she needed to poke Rolan for help, and he was busy and distracted again.

It was already past noon, and she was hungry, but she kept telling herself she would do one more thing before she went to the dining-hall.

_:Chosen:_

Rolan’s mindvoice startled her, he hadn’t reached out to her unprompted much in recent days, and there was a strange urgency there. _:What is it?:_ she sent, sitting up straight and feeling her pulse quicken.

_:Yfandes is back:_

_:Oh!:_ She was up out of her chair in a moment, halfway to the door, before she realized that she had no idea where she was going. _:…That’s good news, right? Um, what should I do?:_

_:It sounds as though Vanyel is with his nephew, who is not a Mindspeaker. Kellan cannot reach Savil, she is most likely in one of the Work Rooms. I am not sure of the best way to tell Vanyel of this. Could you contact Melody and ask her?:_

That seemed unnecessarily circuitous to Dara – Vanyel was a Mindspeaker, come to think of it, why hadn’t Yfandes told him herself? Rolan probably knew best, though. She closed her eyes and reached, out and out, searching for a particular mind; she hadn’t actually used Mindspeech with Melody before, but they had been in the same room plenty of times, and she would recognize her.

Tension thrilled in her chest, but she took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. _:Melody?:_

 _:Dara?:_ Melody’s mindvoice was all clean edges, leaking just a hint of confusion and worry. _:Is something wrong?:_

 _:Apparently Yfandes is back:_ Dara found herself out in the hallway, and stopped; she still wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go. _:Rolan told me to tell you:_

 _:Oh:_ Relief, mixed with something harder to read. _:Did Rolan say what her intentions are?:_

It took Dara a moment to unpack that. Whether Yfandes meant to forgive Vanyel or repudiate him, was surely what the Mindhealer meant – Dara hadn’t even considered the second option, but it was possible. _:No. I don’t know:_

_:Then I suppose I had better go talk to her first, before we do anything else. Where is she?:_

_:Just a minute:_ Dara reached for Rolan again. _:Melody wants to talk to her, where–:_

_:In front of the stables, love:_

* * *

Vanyel tried to focus on Savil’s face. His head spun; he’d needed to sit down rather abruptly on the bed, just before his knees gave in. She had arrived a couple of minutes ago, politely shooed Medren out, and then said the words he had been waiting five days to hear.

The hope almost hurt worse than the despair. _What if I’m dreaming?_ He had dreamed of Yfandes coming back, so many times, running across a field toward him, nuzzling his hair. Even more than the nightmares of armies and destruction, of a forest burning, of wyrsa and a Gate, those dreams had shaken him.

“You’re sure?” he pushed out. As if she could be wrong.

“I’m sure. Melody’s out there with her now.”

He couldn’t tell. The wall of ice in his mind was just as impenetrable as before.

_What do I do now?_

A moment ago, things had made sense. Well, no, nothing made sense anymore, but he’d had a vague sense of how the day would go, and that was enough. Now… It felt like stumbling to a halt in the middle of a battlefield, realizing the battle he’d been pacing himself to endure for candlemarks more was already over.

It should have been a relief. He should have been happy. Right?

“I don’t–” It was hard to speak. _Center and ground._ “What should I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I…don’t know.” It was too much, too quickly. “She’s still blocking me. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“I doubt that.” His aunt’s voice was dry. “Melody told me she was frantic to see you. Maybe she doesn’t want you overhearing Rolan dressing her down.”

Heat surged in his throat. “Rolan – no. He’s got no right. I should go–”

“Ke’chara, stop.” Savil’s voice froze him halfway up from the bed. “Honestly, Rolan has every right to shout at her for a bit. She’s caused him an incredible amount of grief.”

But she was _his_. “No,” he said weakly.

“Fine, then. Just a minute, I’ll tell Melody to pass on that you’re upset about that, and maybe Rolan will take it into consideration.”

“I’m not–” All right, maybe he was upset. He sagged back, and let his head sink into his hands. Which were shaking. “Savil, why do I…?” He didn’t even know what his question was.

“Ke’chara, hey.” He felt the bed bow slightly as she sat next to him, then the weight of her hand on his back. “It’s all right to need a minute. I’m here.” 

Vanyel was regretting the lunch he had managed to force down; his stomach was churning now. It felt too hard to speak. _:Savil, why don’t I... I should want to see her!:_

She switched to Mindspeech as well. _:Ke’chara, of course you’re furious with her. She walked out on you. I’m quite angry with her myself:_

 _:I’m not angry:_ At least he didn’t think so; it was something more complicated. _:It’s not her fault:_ he added, unsure why he felt such a desperate need to defend her, because Savil had a point.

Close his eyes. Remember to breathe. What was he feeling?

Confusion, mostly. There was an ache deep in the center of him, a tight bundle of loneliness/grief/fear/anger that didn’t want to unwind.

Even if the impenetrable wall dissolved away, he wasn’t sure he would remember how to reach out to her. And what was she going to say to him? Just because she had decided to come back, didn’t mean she had forgiven him.

But they would need to cross that bridge sooner or later. He opened his eyes. “Let’s go, I guess.” No point in putting it off.

Savil stood and helped him to his feet, then took a cloak from the hook beside the door and offered it to him. His boots were in the corner; he had only been outside of the Heralds’ Wing once in the past five days, for the interrogation under Truth Spell.

They didn’t pass anyone in the hallway. _I wonder where everyone thinks I am._ He’d run into one of the younger Heralds in the bathhouse, last night. Moondance had quickly concealed himself behind a subtle illusion, and the lad hadn’t tried to talk to Vanyel, but had given him a very odd look.

So much of the last five days had passed in a haze of exhaustion and pain, barely aware of his surroundings. A procession of faces by his bedside: Melody, Lissa, Andrel, Medren, Shavri, even Jisa. And Savil, of course. Not to mention the rest of the Heralds who had taken over his usual workload. He had been falling, helpless, and so many people had reached out to catch him.

 _I love you,_ Savil had said to him _, that’s not conditional on anything._ Like an echo backward in time, from the words Yfandes had said to him once, sixteen years ago. _I won’t abandon you to deal with this alone._

He couldn’t ever have coped with it on his own. It had been a damnedfool plan to try even for a day, and Yfandes was probably going to chew him out for it–

A stagger in his thoughts. It was sinking in, finally. They were going to have that conversation, and whatever conversation came after, and she was going to be there when he woke up tomorrow, and, and, and – _She came back. She came back to me._

Something like anticipation thrilled in his chest. Without realizing it, he walked faster, almost breaking into a run. Savil was on his heels, scrambling to catch up, but he was barely aware of her.

Forge out into the snow. It was grey and cloudy. His mind wanted to strain ahead, and he forced himself to stay back, within his shields. _You’ve waited five days. Be patient for five more minutes._

He hadn’t even asked where he was supposed to be going, but somehow he knew. Peeling off from the main path, he waded through knee-deep snow, wet and heavy, feeling it soak his trews and creep in through the tops of his boots. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He tripped at one point, falling face-first into the snow, and only scrambled up and kept going.

And then she was there.

She looked thin, he thought. Haggard. Ribs showed through her coat, her mane and tail matted and full of twigs. Her head turned toward him, eyes as blue as the summer sky–

He sank to his knees, still a dozen yards away. Melody was standing nearby, against the stable wall, hands on her hips. Rolan was there as well, and the contrast was even more striking; he was glossy, healthy, two hands taller, and Yfandes seemed to cower before him. But she wasn’t looking at Rolan anymore.

She was looking at _him_ , and it was almost too much to take.

 _:We are not done, Yfandes:_ Rolan’s mindvoice’s rolled over him, and he heard Melody’s muted grunt of surprise – was she included as well? _:But…go on. Go to him:_

Yfandes pranced, nervously, ears flattened back. Then she took a step, sinking to her hocks. Another.

When she was three yards away, he held up a hand. _No. Stop. Too close._ She shied back.

They looked at each other for a long, silent moment.

–His vision doubled. She was a horse, or shaped like one, but superimposed on that was another image. A woman, tall, muscled, dark hair with a few strands of grey, brown weathered skin, slight crow’s-feet around her eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that odd hallucination, but it was clearer now.

She was crying, or had been; there were tear-tracks down her cheeks. He hadn’t known Companions could cry.

He hesitated, afraid to find out. _Pull yourself together, Herald._

With his mind, though not his body, he reached for her.

–The wall wasn’t there anymore. He hadn’t felt it break or dissolve, it was just gone. And yet, something was still deeply wrong.

 _:Van:_ she sent.

 _:’Fandes:_ But he didn’t move any closer. 

Eyes that held the whole sky. _:I’m sorry:_

He closed his eyes; the snow vanished, but the strange hallucination was still there. _:Sorry doesn’t fix it:_ he sent.

 _:No. I know. I – it was unforgivable, what I did to you:_ She was weeping again, but held her shoulders straight, chin up. _:Van, the last time – sixteen years ago – I Chose you, but I didn’t give you a choice:_

Flash to a river, storm-swollen, lightning lashing the sky. _:No, you didn’t:_

 _:I love you, Van, I’ll never, ever stop loving you, but – this time, I am giving you a choice:_ A pause, and he felt how she tried to contain the desperation that underlaid every word. _:Do you still want me in your life?:_

Sixteen years ago, sitting together in the Vale under the stars. _If you don’t want to be alive, I’ll respect that. If it’s what you really, truly want, and you can convince me of that, we can die together, painlessly._

He hadn’t thought of it often, since then, though he must have replayed the end of that conversation a thousand times. Hadn’t realized until now just how unusual it must have been, for a Companion to say something like that to her Herald.

She had always been willing to meet him in the middle. All she had ever asked was that whatever they did, they did it together.

_But you left._

But she had come back.

The light that was her was too bright, it hurt, he couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t answer the question. The inside of his head was all buzzing confusion.

 _:I’m sorry:_ Contrition in her mindvoice. _:I didn’t mean – I don’t want to pressure you. Take your time. You don’t have to say anything right now:_

She couldn’t hide the pain; of course it was hurting her that his answer wasn’t an immediate ‘yes’, and the guilt washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, cupping his hands over his face, trying to block out the world.

 _:Van:_ Melody’s mindvoice, and he heard the snow crunch as she walked over, knelt besides him. _:Center and ground:_

Vanyel hadn’t even noticed that his heart was racing, his breathing coming in pants. He forced himself to breathe in and out through his nose, controlled.

 _:Good:_ Melody sent. _:You’re finding it overwhelming. Very understandable. Now, how about we get under shelter? Some privacy would be nice, I imagine:_

He let her help him to his feet, keeping his eyes closed; even now, he could somehow see the strange hallucination that was Yfandes, respectfully keeping her distance, following from three yards back. Melody guided him with a hand under his elbow.

The creak of a door. _:Rolan says we can go in here for a while:_ Melody sent.

Vanyel opened his eyes, blinking in the dimness. It was the grain store-room, stacked with crates and sacks from floor to ceiling.

He sagged down onto a crate at side of the long, narrow room, folding over his knees. Yfandes was a blurred white shape at the opposite end, kneeling in the loose rushes that covered the floor.

Walking had helped; the buzzing had quieted a little. Savil had followed them into the room, and shut the door behind them. He cast her a mute, pleading look, and she crossed the floor and reached to take his hand.

Yfandes was silent, but he could feel the glow of her mind. So much hung in the air between them. Regret, fear, shame. Desperate loneliness. Anger. Bitterness.

Love.

 _:I love you:_ he sent. A peace offering, because that much was true. Not conditional on anything.

He was shivering; it was warmer in the store-room than outdoors, but not by much, and his clothes were wet. A moment later, he saw Savil raise her free hand, and distantly felt her power moving, shaping a weather-barrier.

 _:I’m sorry:_ Yfandes sent again. Brokenly, pointlessly. _:Damn it, I missed you. I missed you so much, every single second, and I wanted – I couldn’t – Van, I came back as soon as I could. As soon I was sure I wasn’t going to repudiate you by accident:_

As soon as she wasn’t going to… His mind stumbled away from it.

 _:That doesn’t condone it. I hurt you so much:_ Grief and apology. _:There was something wrong. In my head:_ She was begging for something, and he didn’t know what. _:I didn’t – I was so confused – it felt like I was breaking apart. Tearing in half. And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, I couldn’t do that to you, I needed to get my head together. Van, I – I’d understand if you can’t forgive me, yet, but can you understand?:_

No, not really. Whatever she had been struggling with, it was a Companion thing, not a human thing. But maybe he understood enough. She had been trying her best. Wrestling with herself, but following the path that would hurt him the least.

 _:You don’t have to say anything:_ Yfandes added.

Vanyel closed his eyes, again, and again she was still there. A woman, haggard, exhausted, but patient. Waiting, demanding nothing from him.

 _:I forgive you:_ he sent. Again, that much at least was true. _:You were trying to do the right thing:_

He had wandered so far from what it meant to be a Herald. A sacred trust, a path that was clear and bright – it had never been real to him, but it must have been to Yfandes. She was a Companion of Valdemar; it was what she was _for._

And she had followed him anyway. She had broken the rules for him, guarded his secrets year after year. Until it was too much, and slammed into one of her fundamental limitations – and she had left.

Alone in the wilderness, with no one to watch or guide her, she had broken through that limit, and come back. She was a pattern that couldn’t walk away. He didn’t need to step into the blue place, to see that.

Maybe he should have been angry, but he couldn’t find it in himself. What would be the point?

There had only ever been one answer.

 _:Yfandes:_ he sent. _:Of course. A million times over. I Choose you:_

–And something shifted, the world slipping into alignment again. Still imperfect, cracked, but it would do. Yfandes was there and her light was all around him, so bright it hurt, she was kneeling in the hay at his feet, snuffling in his hair and his fingers were tangled in her mane.

Savil and Melody were both there, one on either side of him. Silently bearing witness. Maybe it should have felt invasive, to have them there, but it didn’t. He was grateful for it. Being alone with Yfandes right now would have been too much.

_:Van, I’m so sorry. Whatever it takes to make this up to you–:_

He was laughing and crying at the same time. _:Just don’t ever do it again. Please:_

 _:I wouldn’t dream of it. Damn it, I missed you:_ The relief in her was spilling over. _:I’m never letting go of you again. Never ever ever:_

 _:I missed you too:_ And so much more than that. _:I thought, ‘Fandes, I thought you hated me. That I’d done something unforgivable, that I didn’t deserve to be a Herald anymore:_

 _:Never!:_ A blaze of light, ringing like a bell in his head. _:That’s not what – Van, I’m the one who failed you:_

He pressed his forehead to hers. _:I almost jumped off the belltower:_ Probably better she find out from him than someone else.

 _:Kernos’ balls, Van!:_ There was alarm and guilt in her mindvoice, but no anger – not aimed at him, anyway. _:I’m so sorry. I thought – I could tell you were alive – I don’t know what I thought. That must be what Rolan meant, when he said I’d been very lucky:_

 _:Maybe:_ He leaned into her. _:It did turn out fine. I got down, somehow, and then Melody found me, and – gods, I have so much to tell you:_ The weight of it was piling up in his head and he didn’t know where to start. _:Savil knows. About Leareth:_

 _:Oh:_ Shock, and concern. _:Everything?:_

_:All the important bits. Probably. I didn’t do a good job of explaining:_

_:Was she angry?:_

_:It’s complicated:_

He could feel her mind racing, tracing down all the implications. _:Who else knows?:_

He realized he wasn’t totally sure. _:Melody. Shavri and Randi. I guess Tantras must know as well, and maybe Dara:_

 _:Right. Rolan knew, I didn’t think about…:_ He could feel how Yfandes tried to stay calm, absorbing it. _:We’ll talk about it later:_ she sent, reassuring. A pause. _:Your mind has changed:_

 _:Melody did a lot of mucking around:_ He couldn’t have told Yfandes what she’d done, though. Usually Melody explained better what she was doing, or maybe she had been explaining and he hadn’t paid attention. _:You feel different as well:_ And, again, he couldn’t put his finger on what had changed.

 _:I feel different to myself:_ Wonder and guilt, mixed. _:We’ll sort it out. How are you feeling?:_

 _:Glad you’re here:_ He ran his hand down her neck, relishing the warm solidness – like he might forget she was real, if he weren’t touching her. _:I feel like someone turned me upside down and shook me:_ And the inside of his head was still jostling around. There wasn’t room to hold all the light that was Yfandes – it was good, but there was too much. It had never been overwhelming like this before. Sometimes her mindtouch had been painful, when his channels were damaged, but this was different. It was hard to find his center; he felt off-balance, like the ground was tilting under him.

 _:Can you…?:_ he started.

 _:Sorry:_ She pulled back, and even though it was better, he could think again, and she was still there and nearby, he still wanted to cry out after her to come back.

* * *

“Starwind,” Randi said. “Moondance. Welcome to Valdemar. We are honoured to have you here.” Luckily he already knew how to pronounce the foreign names. _Jisa didn’t shut up about her new friends Starwind and Moondance for months._

Shavri had just ushered the two men into the small formal sitting-room in Randi’s quarters – yet again, he felt too tired to leave his rooms today – and Randi was trying not to stare. They were the strangest people he had ever seen.

Moondance’s hair was snow-white, falling almost to his waist, with a single slim braid at each temple; the braid on the left bore a large feather. Despite the hair, his face was youthful, square, he wasn’t smiling but his cheeks had the look of someone who smiled often. Eyes of a shockingly bright blue, and the gaudiest robes Randi had ever seen, all cascading layers of green embroidered with accents of red and gold. Like a forest come to life. The man would have looked like a bush if he weren’t so tall and slender, but somehow he pulled it off. Did all Hawkbrothers dress like that?

“King Randale,” he said. His voice was a pleasant tenor, faintly accented, but he spoke Valdemaran fluently enough. “The honour is ours.” He didn’t bow, only smiled broadly.

Beside him, Starwind made some kind of formal-seeming gesture; Randi wondered if it was significant in Hawkbrother culture. “King Randale,” he said. “Greetings.” His accent was much thicker,and he spoke slowly and haltingly.

Randi wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Starwind k’Treva was even stranger than his partner. He had the same long white hair, his worn with two braids at each temple, and the same impossibly ice-blue eyes, but there was a golden tone to his skin and his chiseled features had a cast unlike any Randi had seen in Valdemar. He was older than Moondance, but he didn’t look anywhere near his true age, which Randi knew to be about sixty. His clothing was simpler, with fewer encumbering layers, but still richly embroidered in a dozen shades of blue, from velvety-midnight to the pale hue of a robin’s egg. One hand gripped an elaborately-carved cane, and Moondance supported his other elbow.

After a long pause, he grimaced slightly, turned to Shavri, and spoke again, presumably in Tayledras, a tangle of strange syllables. 

Shavri smiled. “Starwind apologizes that his Valdemaran is so rusty. He says that he can understand you well enough, if you speak slowly, but he asks that you let Moondance do most of the talking for now.” _:He used to speak it better:_ she added in private Mindspeech. _:I think it must be from his head injury. He had a lot of trouble with words, after, I suppose he’s lucky he got the one language back as well as he did:_

“Of course.” Randi took a sip of wine, trying to think of what to say next. “I am very grateful to both of you for coming. I know that it’s a lot to ask. And I’m sorry it took a full day to find time to greet you.” 

Starwind and Moondance looked at each other, and then Moondance spoke. “We could not have done otherwise. We owe our lives together to your Shavri, and a great deal more than that to our other Wingsiblings.” He crossed the room, holding out his arm to his partner. “ _Ashke_ , you may sit now.”

Starwind took a step; Randi had already noticed that he walked unsteadily, with a marked limp. He felt a surge of sympathy. _We have that much in common,_ he thought, apropos of nothing.

Shavri bustled to the sideboard. “Something to drink? Wine, tea…?”

Randi lowered himself into his padded armchair, managing not to groan. “Wine, please.” It was only early afternoon, but maybe the drink would do something about his aching back. _Damn it, I’m exhausted._ He hadn’t been sleeping well, and it was wearing on him. This was the first serious emergency in years, and apparently he didn’t have the stamina for it anymore.

He waited for the lightheadedness to pass. _I hate this._ He was due for another Healing-Meld, to push back the symptoms a little longer – but those helped less and less, as the years wore on, and were tiring in their own right. He was usually bedridden for a day or two afterwards, from sheer exhaustion and weakness rather than pain, and he couldn’t afford that right now.

Moondance helped Starwind lower himself onto the loveseat, and then joined him, close enough that their thighs touched, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling back.

Randi blinked. He shouldn’t have been disturbed by it, but…well, it was a little jarring. Even Vanyel and Tran hadn’t ever been affectionate in public.

Shavri pressed a cup of watered wine into Randi’s hands, then slid a tea-tray onto the low table between them. She sat in the chair next to Randi, reaching out to rest her fingertips on his shoulder, and he felt the cool touch of her Gift, a slight inflow of energy.

She was wearing the damned sword again today, and he had noticed a new hardness, a blazing edge that hadn’t been there before. No, it had been there yesterday as well; he just hadn’t been paying enough attention to his own lifebonded to give name to it. Usually Shavri made him think of earth, solid and green and teeming with life, and sometimes of water, gentle but inexorable. Her curiosity, her quick darting mind, was like air, but he saw less and less of that as the years went on.

Today, she made him think of fire. When she touched him, he almost wanted to flinch away, as though he expected her flesh to burn him.

“We should talk about our problem,” he said. “There are shields on this room, so you can speak openly.” Shields laid by Vanyel, and he hadn’t thought to ask any of the other mages to check them since the recent news – but if he was going to be that paranoid, there was almost nothing he could trust. Vanyel was responsible for so many of the major magical workings around the Palace, and even their records might not tell them where to look, since he and Savil had often swapped duties and covered for each other.

No. He didn’t trust Vanyel entirely, anymore, but he still trusted him that far, even if Tran might disagree.

Starwind nodded solemnly, and then turned to look at Moondance, who spoke.

“We knew already of your Leareth in the north,” he said. He pronounced the name strangely, with an exotic lilt. “What we learn today is that he speaks to our Wingbrother in dreams, and of what he has said and what he plans to do. He wishes to create a god-power. I had believed our Goddess to be involved, before, and it would seem likely this is why. Before, we thought him only a threat to Valdemar, and not to our lands. If he does what he wishes… He is a danger to all living beings, everywhere.”

Randi only nodded, waiting.

Starwind leaned forward and said something in the Tayledras tongue again, several phrases of it.

“Starwind thinks that this Leareth must be a madman,” Moondance translated for him. “That this thing is not possible.” He paused for a moment. “I am not sure. If our Goddess is moved to intervene… The threat is real.”

Randi glanced back and forth at the two of them. “So you believe Leareth was telling the truth,” he said. “About his immortality, and his plan.”

“Yes.” Moondance inclined his head, the corner of his lip tugging up. “My Wingbrother believes this to be true, and…it would not be the strangest thing I have seen, in this world.” He hesitated. “I do not have the true Gift of Foresight, such that your Heralds know of, and yet sometimes I see things in my dreams. Things that the land, or perhaps our Goddess, wish for k’Treva to know. There is a pattern, and before I had seen only pieces. It fits, now.”

 _I wish you would stop being so mysterious._ Randi tried not to let any of his irritation, or incredulity, show.

“And then there is the other piece,” Moondance went on. “Our Wingbrother has spoken to this man for many years. There is respect between them, and perhaps even a kind of trust. I know Vanyel. He cannot help but to seek information and learn, and he does not dismiss an idea simply because it is strange. He is only being himself, when he says that he is not sure Leareth is wrong.” He tilted his head to the side, blue eyes resting on Randi. “That is what troubles you the most, no?”

Randi grimaced. “Well, it also bothers me a great deal that the mage lurking on our borders is immortal and terrifyingly competent. And that he wants to sacrifice ten million people in some kind of horrifying ritual. But, yes. It does worry me, that Vanyel – the strongest mage in the Kingdom, and one of my most trusted advisors up until now – has been this deeply shaped by an enemy.”

“You wonder if he is the friend you thought,” Moondance said, sympathetically. “Or if it was a lie all along.”

“Something like that, yes.” The Hawkbrother spoke about it so calmly; it was almost more disturbing, that way.

“I am not sure what to tell you.” Moondance shook his head, white hair falling across his cheek. “I would say, he is the same man as before, and you simply know more of what went into making that man. Vanyel is a good person. I know this. So do you.”

 _Even good people do bad things._ Randi wished he could find Moondance’s words reassuring.

“His lady Yfandes has returned to him,” Moondance added. “That tells you something, no?”

Maybe. Randi hadn’t had a chance to think it through yet. It was a good sign, surely, and it was certainly good for Vanyel – Randi was incredibly relieved and glad on his behalf. Maybe he would be all right.

But it didn’t mean that his judgement was sound, or that he hadn’t been influenced deeply by Leareth. If anything, it hinted that Yfandes had been influenced as well. _Can we trust either of them?_

“Ashke?” Moondance turned back to Starwind, and the two of them exchanged a burst of Tayledras. Randi glanced at Shavri, who was watching them intently, apparently oblivious to him.

Finally, Starwind fell silent, and Moondance turned back to him and spoke in Valdemaran. “You wonder now what to do next?”

“Well. Yes.” So far, they had been waiting. For the next piece of information. For any of it to start making sense. And for Rolan to track down Yfandes – who had come back of her own accord, now.

_What next?_

There were still so many uncertainties. Thinking about it was like staring into fog, and he might lose himself in it forever.

Randi held up a hand, to forestall any interruptions, and closed his eyes.

_We need more information._

No, before that. There was a step he was missing, but it felt amorphous, hard to name.

_We need to be on the same page with what we already know._

That was closer; the vague unease in his chest tightened, crystallizing into something sharper. Were they not on the same page already? They should have been. He felt like he’d spent half his time in endless freeform meetings, these last few days, watching Savil and Tran and Dara tossing out ideas, writing down actions.

–And he had mostly watched, and kept his thoughts as well as feelings to himself. Sharing them with Shavri, later, because he had to or he would explode, but she kept his confidences. And so information was lost in the cracks between people. He wasn’t the only one guilty of it; he had watched Savil and Melody and even Tran reacting and then deciding not to speak, and it made perfect sense, it was understandable and human and he couldn’t fault them for it, but he wasn’t sure they could afford it.

It was even worse, now, because half the meetings didn’t have everyone there. Dara had been left out of several; Savil and Melody had both missed some of their discussions, to be with Vanyel; even Randi himself had skipped some of the check-ins and regroupings because he didn’t have the energy.

They had all the information they were likely to get, for the foreseeable future. More would have been nice, but they needed to work with what they had. Which meant actually talking about it, damn it, not talking in endless circles around it.

He started to open his mouth, and stopped himself. Pause. Starwind and Moondance might be close friends with Savil and Vanyel – and with Shavri – but they were outlanders. Not Heralds. Not on Valdemar’s side.

Oh.

_Am I thinking of this as sides?_

He was, a little. And he had the sense that so was everyone else; he had watched the battle-lines form, in the spaces between sentences, the ambiguous looks across a candlelit meeting-room. He’d been tracking it, because he had to. That Tantras was the most hostile to Vanyel. That Savil was torn; she was a Herald of Valdemar, but if he asked her to make an impossible choice, it was a coin-flip whether she would choose loyalty to her nephew above all else. He didn’t know where Shavri stood, actually, and that was a whole problem. _I haven’t been talking to her._ Or, he had only been talking, not listening. Melody – she was a faction unto herself, an outsider, but if she had an agenda it was to shelter Vanyel. From Randi. 

It shouldn’t have been about that. _We all want the same thing. Right?_ Even Vanyel, in the end, wanted to do right by Valdemar. Not because he was a Herald – if anything, it went the other way. Like any of them, Van had been Chosen at all because he cared.

 _This isn’t just about Valdemar anymore,_ he reminded himself.

“We need to talk about this,” he said. “Everyone who’s involved, and ideally that includes Vanyel. We need to all sit down in a room, and talk over what we know. Put the pieces together. Starwind and Moondance, if you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate if you joined us.” He tried to massage away the ache in his forearm. “After that, maybe we’ll be ready for plans.”

Silence. Beside him, Shavri had tensed up; it was subtle, she hid it well, but he saw the way she controlled her breathing. She didn’t want to face that discussion. Well, neither did he, but they needed to. _I know it’s too much to ask, love. I need to ask it anyway._

Starwind and Moondance watched, and both of them looked thoughtful. A moment later, Starwind murmured something to Moondance, soft and quick.

Moondance raised his chin, facing Randi. “I think there is something else you must needs do first.”

Randi waited. “I’m all ears,” he said finally, hoping the sharpness in his voice wasn’t too noticeable. _Please don’t be mysterious at me._

“There is a thing I said to Shavri, before,” Moondance said finally. His voice had changed – it was a register deeper, and oddly flat. “There is strain between all of you. Fear, and anger, and hurt. It is a very understandable thing, when the foundations of everything you know are disturbed – and yet, this is the time that you most need your trust in one another, to face this challenge.” He blinked, and shook himself slightly. “Does that make sense?”

Randi stared into the cool blue depths of the Tayledras mage’s eyes, vaguely disconcerted. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I think so. I mean, I guess that’s why we haven’t been able to manage this better.”

Moondance nodded, solemnly. “There is a wound that festers. A thing that is easier for one looking in from the outside to see, perhaps. It lies too close to your hearts – and so you fold it away, and set it aside to the future. I think that is a mistake.”

Randi winced. _I wish you wouldn’t speak to me like I’m a child._ “Maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“There is a practice we have, in the Vales,” Moondance said. “We are few, and we must work together – and sometimes we fail, we make mistakes, and there is grief and loss and hurt, and from that comes anger and, yes, mistrust. When this comes to pass, the Speaker for the Vale – that is my _shay’kreth’ashke,_ in k’Treva – will call a meeting. We go to the Heartstone sanctum, the safest of places. We take down all of our shields, and we speak of it. Not of actions and choices. That comes later. We speak of our pain – and at the end of it, not all is soothed, not all things can be mended, and yet often it is easier to speak of practicalities afterwards.”

Randi, blinking, waited to see if there was more. “You want us to all sit down in a room,” he started, “and talk about our feelings?” With shields down. It sounded like approximately the worst idea in the world.

Moondance nodded, earnest. “I believe it is a step you must take, and sooner better than later.”

“I can think of several people who would refuse outright,” he said dully. _I might be one of them._

“The idea frightens you,” Moondance noted. “What feels unsafe?”

Randi made a face. “For one, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give Van a chance to try to convince us of Leareth’s merits.” He felt Shavri bristle silently; her face revealed nothing, but she couldn’t hide it from their bond.

Moondance bowed his head briefly, acknowledging the point. “It would not be that kind of conversation,” he said. “The purpose is not to speak of facts, or of actions. Only of the wounds you have caused one another, and not to demand forgiveness, or to declare who is in the right and who is at fault – simply to speak of it, so that it may be known and heard.” His eyes seemed to bore into Randi. “You wish to avoid speaking to Vanyel?”

Randi nodded warily.

“Because this hangs between you,” Moondance said. “You fear he is corrupted, and you worry at the pain it will cause him, to know you believe this. I think it would do both of you good to have those fears spoken of.”

Randi still felt very dubious – but the problem that Moondance was pointing at was a real one. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’ll think about it.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

“About time,” Tran muttered under his breath, as the meeting-room door opened and closed behind Savil’s back.

“How is he?” Shavri said, louder, standing and pulling out a chair.

Savil looked tired but jubilant. “Well, he’s reunited with Yfandes. Things were awkward for a bit, but they seem to be working it out. Melody’s still with them.” She took the cup of watered wine that Shavri pushed in her direction with a grateful nod. “She doesn’t want to leave the two of them alone, yet, so Andy is going to head out and sit with them in the stables whenever Melody needs a break.”

Oh. That was something Shavri hadn’t considered. His Companion’s return must have been very good for Vanyel, but it could have been destabilizing all the same, knocking him out of whatever holding-pattern he had managed to settle into – and there were good reasons not to entirely trust Yfandes to look out for him, right now. Which made her want to cry, but that didn’t make it false.

“Anyway,” Savil added, “I think Melody would like us to stop expecting her in general. She told me she’s very behind on everything else, and Aber is miffed with her. And, I mean, it really isn’t her job to come to our strategy-meetings.”

Poor Melody, Shavri thought. Hopefully things would settle down now, and she could have something resembling a normal routine again. _We could all wish for that._ Unfortunately, for the Heraldic Circle it wasn’t likely to be true for a long time.

Save the ruminating for later. “So we’ve got everyone,” Shavri said out loud. For some definition of ‘everyone’; they were missing Randi, who was napping. Leaving her to run this godforsaken meeting, which was the last thing she wanted to be doing. “Let’s get started. First. Savil, I know it’s probably too early to tell, but…is Van going to be all right?”

Savil looked uncomfortable. “Melody seems hopeful, but she said he’ll need time. He’s not just going to be fine now that she’s back.”

“It’s something, anyway.” Shavri rubbed her eyes, which were aching. “Next. We need to talk about the information this gives us.”

Dara scraped her chair closer to the table. “Surely it’s good, right? If Yfandes is taking his side, he’s not corrupted.”

 _I wish it was that simple._ Shavri said nothing, waiting for Tran to jump in with the inevitable rebuttal.

“Not necessarily,” he said, right on time. “Companions aren’t infallible, and we can’t expect her to be objective about her Chosen. It means he's not actively trying to harm Valdemar, but we weren’t really doubting that anymore.” His breath gusted out. “Really, we shouldn’t be at all surprised that Leareth got to Yfandes as well. She heard all the same arguments. Taver might’ve tried to anchor her, but it sounds like most of Leareth’s progress towards subverting Vanyel was in the last four years, after Taver died.”

 _You’re talking about it like it’s a fact._ Shavri wasn’t sure why it bothered her, because Tran had a point – Vanyel had admitted under Truth spell to being convinced by Leareth’s arguments. The fact that Shavri herself found some of those cases convincing as well might not be evidence that the conclusions were right; they knew Leareth was smart enough to out-argue any of them, unscrupulous enough to use any argument that worked, and had spent over a decade scheming to coax Vanyel over to his side.

Still, it felt like that path led to madness. If she couldn’t trust her own reasoning against the world, then what was she supposed to _do_?

“It’s still information,” she heard herself say. “Not enough for any solid conclusion, but this does point in the direction of Vanyel being trustworthy.” Something was tickling on the edge of her awareness – oh. Right. “Dara, has Rolan talked to Yfandes? What does he think of her trustworthiness?”

“He’s being mysterious,” Dara said. “Sorry.”

Shavri managed not to roll her eyes. “Well, please let us know if he has anything to add at a later point. Anyway. Randi formally met with the Tayledras today. It seems they want to stick around and be helpful for a while. And they had a suggestion, that I wanted to pass on.”

Expectant faces, looking at her.

She laid out the proposal Moondance had made, keeping her voice level and her eyes fixed on a point just above Savil’s head.

The reactions were just about what she had expected.

“No,” Tran said flatly. “Absolutely not. I’m not taking my shields down with Vanyel there.”

“I understand why it sounds like a bad idea,” Shavri said. “Honestly, though, I think Moondance is right about the problem we have. Maybe we should be keeping Van at arm’s length, but he does have information we need. It’s going to be hard to talk to him about it if none of us want to be in the same room. I know you feel betrayed, gods, so do I, but it’s not productive to keep stewing about it.”

Her own voice sounded so calm, despite the murky tension in her gut.

“I’m for it,” Savil said quietly.

Shavri hadn’t expected Savil to be so readily convinced, but she had known the Tayledras even longer than Vanyel had; of course she trusted them.

Dara was looking around, eyes round. “Rolan thinks we should,” she said in a small voice.

Shavri bobbed her head, grateful for the unexpected support. “Tran,” she said. “I would understand if you want to opt out, but could you talk to Moondance about it first? Or Melody?” She still had to track the Mindhealer down and fill her in, or drag her to see Moondance so he could explain it properly. “I don’t think it’s going to be _fun_ , but I don’t think it has the risk you’re worried about either. It’s explicitly not about trying to convince each other of anything, or making plans. We don’t actually need to talk about Leareth directly at all. He isn’t the one we have to work with.”

Though Vanyel thought he might be. The idea was still terrifying, a yawning gulf, but it was easier to think about now.

The final conclusion was appalling. But maybe Vanyel was seeing something she wasn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Randi’s not convinced we should do it at all,” she went on. “I wanted to float the idea, is all, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise. Moving on. Any other items we should discuss?”

Tran leaned forward. “We need to decide when, and how, we’re bringing this to the rest of the Senior Circle. Keiran took me aside today – she knows something must be going on, and she’s worried. Kilchas and Sandra have to be getting suspicious as well. We _can’t_ keep this under wraps much longer.”

“I’m not making that decision without Randi.” Was it cowardice, to hide behind his non-presence? Shavri wasn’t sure. “You’re right, though, we do need to be thinking about it. If you have any ideas about the how, I’ll bring it to him.”

* * *

Melody uncrossed her legs and carefully wriggled sideways, trying not to rustle the straw or catch her robes on the rough wood of the big loose-box stall they had moved to; it was private enough, with the door closed, and it was a lot more comfortable for Yfandes than the grain-room.

Vanyel didn’t stir. He had dozed off against Yfandes’ flank a few minutes ago, during a trance-exercise Melody had asked him to go through, and she had been trying to decide if she ought to wake him and finish her work.

 _It’ll do for now_ , she decided. She had removed or shifted half a dozen strong redirects – after that, and his last few days, it was no wonder Van was worn out. He needed the rest.

She could have reached out with Mindspeech and asked Andrel to take over, but she found she didn’t want to go quite yet. She had already told Aber to cancel all of her appointments today, and the Companions’ Stables was the last place anyone would think to look for her.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Vanyel wasn’t deeply asleep, and having a conversation out loud might wake him. Instead, she reached out with a cautious Mindtouch. _:Yfandes?:_

The Companion’s mind didn’t feel much like a human at all. Cool, blue-silver, and blazingly bright. _:Thank you:_ Yfandes sent, overwhelming gratitude almost drowning out the exhaustion and the tangle of guilt/shame/fear underneath. Her mindvoice was a woman’s, deep and slightly husky, reminding Melody obscurely of Gemma’s mother. _:I can’t tell you how much it means to me, that you were there for him. Still are here for him:_

 _:Don’t worry about it:_ Melody felt her lips curve into a smile. _:I’m glad to be able to help:_ Even if it meant scrunching herself up on the straw. At least Savil’s weather-barrier was keeping the air toasty. _:He’s going to be all right:_ she added, more confidently than she felt – which Yfandes would pick up, in Mindspeech, damn it.

 _:Is it normal that he’s sleeping so much?:_ Yfandes asked, concern creeping in to replace the gratitude. _:I mean, I don’t mind the cuddles, but Van never sleeps in the daytime:_

 _:He has been napping a lot:_ Melody picked a bit of straw out of her hair. _:The sort of work I do will take a lot out of him. And it’s been a very stressful week. He didn’t sleep for almost two days, before we found out:_

 _:Two days!:_ Alarm, and fresh guilt. _:I don’t – I mean – but why?:_

 _:He didn’t want to talk to Leareth:_ It should have been obvious enough, she thought. _:He took jervain the night after you walked out. Sounds like it didn’t work, and he ended up straight back in the dream. Which I doubt counted as actual rest, and he understandably didn’t want to go to sleep again after:_ Waiting, alone. And then pushing through an entire workday without letting anything slip, somehow. It made her chest ache just to imagine it.

She’d let him cancel his appointment with her, and hadn’t asked any questions. Which had been reasonable enough at the time, Vanyel cancelled about half of all his scheduled times with her and she’d had no reason at all to expect _this_ , but it galled her all the same. She could have done something sooner.

Yfandes’ blue eyes were plaintive. It shouldn’t have been possible for a horse’s face to hold so much human expression. _:I know how Van gets when he’s underslept. Was he…?:_

 _:It was bad. It almost went a lot worse:_ Melody lifted a hand to her neck, trying to massage away the sudden tightness. _:Sorry. I know that whatever happened, you weren’t aiming to hurt him. But you did:_ There was more acid in her mindvoice than she had intended to let past her directional shields, but, well, could Yfandes really expect anything else?

Yfandes didn’t make a sound; her whimper was purely mental. _:I’m sorry:_

_:I’m not the one you should be apologizing to:_

It was hard to stay angry with the Companion, though. Yfandes was leaking contrition, an overflowing bucket of it, and clearly just as distraught about the last few days as Vanyel. She nuzzled his hair; he made a wordless sound and tightened his arm around her neck, but didn’t open his eyes.

 _:It feels better now:_ There was a hint of awe and wonder in the Companion’s mindvoice. _:Less off-center:_

 _:That’s what I was hoping for:_ Melody had set up several redirects specifically to help Van stay _away_ from the place in his mind where his Companion-bond lived, which must have been unhelpful and confusing once he was trying to talk to her.

 _:There’s something still not right:_ Yfandes added. _:I don’t know what it is. Can you…?:_

 _:I can Look, if you want:_ She might as well. _:I can tell you right now, you have damaged your relationship with him. Not the mechanism of your bond, necessarily, but everything else. It’s going to be very hard for him to trust you completely like before:_

Yfandes bent her head, white eyelashes at half-mast. _:I don’t know how to make this right:_

 _:Maybe you can’t. It might not ever be the way it was:_ Then Melody shook her head, and rested her hand on Yfandes’ white flank. _:Just be there. Show him with your actions that you aren’t going anywhere, and eventually he might believe it. And you need to talk through what happened. You know that, right?:_

 _:I know:_ Deep reluctance, almost terror. _:I don’t… Melody, I don’t know if I can make promises to him anymore. If I should. I thought I could, but if I can’t, if I can’t trust my own mind…:_

 _:I imagine that’s very frightening:_ Melody leaned her back against the wall and took a breath, reminding herself to center and ground, and checking her shields – she didn’t want to be leaking anything that Van might pick up. _You don’t even know if your Gift works on Companions,_ she reminded herself. Not to mention the fact that she was more than a little furious with Yfandes, and using her Gift on anyone she was that angry with was ill-advised, her control was very good but anyone could slip.

And yet. If she wanted to help Vanyel, she couldn’t ignore his Companion. Like it or hate it, Yfandes was the single most important person in his life.

Steel herself. _:Could you tell me about it?:_ she sent. _:Your side of things, I mean. If we can figure out what caused this, for you, we can make sure it won’t happen again:_

 _:Oh:_ A waft of surprise. _:Would you help?:_

 _:Of course:_ Melody tried to push the sincerity through with her words, and shield out the hint of resentment. _:To start – this didn’t come out of nowhere, did it? I’m guessing things have been off between you for quite a long time:_

A ponderous nod. Yfandes’ eyes were…sad?

 _:When did that start?:_ Melody prodded.

 _:I’m not sure:_ A long, thoughtful pause. _:Just before Sunhame, maybe:_

 _:Before?:_ That was unexpected.

 _:It wasn’t because of the blood-magic:_ Yfandes tossed her head, mane glinting. _:It was… I don’t know. After you saw him in Horn, and had him…speak to the Star-Eyed:_ An odd stumble there. _:He wanted to ask more questions. About Leareth, and what we ought to do. About the gods:_ Yfandes was silent for a long time. _:I tried to help, but – it didn’t feel right to think about. It felt dangerous, and there wasn’t any good reason why. Kernos’ horns, I really did try:_

It was odd, hearing a Companion swear, and Melody swallowed a snicker. Nothing about this was funny. _:But he could tell:_ she guessed. _:That it made you uncomfortable. I imagine he didn’t want to fight, so he would’ve started to avoid the subject. And this was a very important question, for him, so you drifted apart?:_

 _:…Probably:_ Yfandes’ ears flattened back, chagrin and shame in her mindvoice. _:I shouldn’t have ever let it happen that way:_

 _:Maybe not, but it’s in the past now:_ Melody looked at the window for a moment, trying to refocus. What had she been – oh. _:You already weren’t quite on the same page:_ she guessed. _:And so when he responded to Leareth’s revelations the way he did, it caught you by surprise:_

 _:Yes:_ Yfandes’ flank swelled and relaxed, a horse’s equivalent of a sigh, and then she lowered her head, resting her muzzle on Vanyel’s shoulder. _:It shouldn’t have:_ she admitted. _:I mean, he was being exactly himself:_

Melody nodded. Licked her lips. _:And mostly you love him for what he is:_ she offered, _:but some part of you flinches from it:_ The part that made Companions different, at a guess.

 _:That’s exactly it:_ Yfandes’ eyes locked on her. _:It’s, just… It’s hard to explain. I Chose him, but I didn’t choose to Choose him, if that makes sense? It was like finding a puzzle piece that fit. Like water flowing downhill. Until it…didn’t feel like that anymore. Felt like I didn’t recognize him:_ Her mindvoice was almost a whine. _:Melody, I thought I was going to repudiate him. I could feel it starting to happen, it seemed so inevitable. And I didn’t, I couldn’t – I just blocked all of it and ran. I was a coward:_

Melody forced herself to meet those sky-filled eyes, levelly, and tried to find the right words. _:I’m not sure you did wrong:_ she admitted. _:Well. You did a lot of things wrong. At the very least you should have warned Rolan, or me, so that we could have kept him safe. But sometimes the only thing you can do is go off where you have space to think. And you came back:_

 _:I didn’t think it would take that long. I should have – if I’d known that, I would have warned Rolan:_ Yfandes closed her eyes. _:I was being a coward:_

 _:It’s understandable. He is rather intimidating:_ Melody tilted her head, trying to figure out what emotion to read into the bunched muscles tensing under Yfandes’ hide. _:And, well, I can’t say no harm done, but we all survived it:_

 _:I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this:_ Desperation, and the almost painful love under it. _:Anything:_

 _:And I’ll help you:_ Melody reached out and patted Yfandes’ side. _:For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a coward at all. I think it took a great deal of courage, to face this. To come back:_ Her hands wanted something to do, and she started picking apart a longish straw. _:It’s not all the way resolved, is it? Enough that you can be sure you won’t repudiate him by mistake, but you’re still feeling conflicted:_

A surprised flutter of those long white eyelashes. _:Yes:_

How to approach it? _:Tell me how you thought through it:_ Melody sent. _:And, is it all right if I Look at your mind with my Sight?:_ She wasn’t sure how well it would work – after all, she hadn’t Looked at any other Companions, to compare – but it seemed worth trying.

 _:Of course:_ Yfandes hesitated for a moment. _:I thought through it sort of like you might’ve told Van to, actually, if he were torn about something. Or…the way Leareth would have advised. He gives similar advice to you sometimes, you know:_

Despite herself, Melody snorted out loud. Fortunately it didn’t wake Vanyel. _:How flattering. I think:_

 _:Anyway. I laid out everything I was feeling, everything I thought I wanted. There was a feeling of…disgust, almost. Like wanting to spit out bad hay, only the thing I wanted to spit out was my bond with Van, and I couldn’t. Never. So I asked the feeling what it really wanted:_ Yfandes turned her muzzle away. _:That took the longest. It was so hard. Like it didn’t want me to look:_

 _:Our emotions are like that, sometimes:_ Melody kept her mindvoice level, acknowledging and folding away the alarm and even horror that rose in her. _:And?:_

 _:And, I don’t know, it was all swampy-feeling, but it felt the most true that the disgust wanted the same thing as all the rest of me. To do right by Valdemar, and by my Chosen. That’s what a Companion is for. Only, it clearly wasn’t working. Because Valdemar needs Van, and Van needs me, and I almost destroyed that:_ There was an aching weight in Yfandes’ mindvoice. _:You know, I never understood until now why Tylendel did what he did. Hellfires, I didn’t want to understand. But, now – well, it felt like once that line was crossed, it wasn’t worth salvaging anything:_

Melody closed her eyes, surprised by the sting of threatened tears. It wasn’t a question she had ever, really, asked herself – why a boy who had been Chosen, who’d been _happy_ to be Chosen, who had loved Valdemar deeply and loved Vanyel even more, had decided to abandon all of that and call down Final Strike on a lonely border holding.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about, but that was a flag. Make space for it, a quiet voice reminded her, half the work of an old redirect-pattern she had done on herself, half sheer habit.

 _:I’m sorry:_ she sent. _:It sounds like that was very difficult:_ More than she could ever understand, but she didn’t need to fully wrap her head around it. Only to listen.

 _:Tylendel made a mistake:_ A note of ringing steel, blazing silver, like a sword-blade striking a bell. _:It’s never really an answer, to burn everything down and start over:_

 _:I agree:_ And Melody waited.

Yfandes lipped at Vanyel’s hair. _:My Chosen. I love you:_ A whisper of Mindspeech that Melody wasn’t sure was intended for her. _:I kept remembering that, over and over. And wanting to burn everything down anyway, and reminding myself that would be worse for Valdemar, and then asking the feeling what it was really for. What a Yfandes is really for, and how the disgust-feeling fit into that. Until the answer started to change:_

Melody blinked, rapidly, and flung up a hand. _:Stop a minute:_ Stare at the pattern that was Yfandes’ mind, dense-woven threads on a loom, and the part that had shifted. Deep, under the surface, but huge. _:Yfandes, say the last thing again:_

_:Until the answer started to change?:_

It was always hard to describe Mindhealing Sight in words, even to herself. Like an inner frame – not scaffolding, nothing so flimsy, a permanent part of the layout that kept the threads organized – had dissolved away. Still a pattern there, but it was only thread, not the immutable wood.

 _:What did it change to?:_ she sent, wondering if she already knew.

 _:…To nothing:_ Raw-edged confusion, the trailing edge of an abyss. _:Just didn’t seem like a sensible question anymore. Didn’t seem real, that I was ‘for’ something. That anyone is ‘for’ anything. It’s just… All of a sudden it’s only days and nights and rocks and trees and rivers and fires. And people, feeling things and wanting things and doing things. There’s no purpose to it. No other purpose, I mean. No rules. Just – just that living things think and feel, and want to live and not hurt, and that matters:_ Yfandes’ eyes were almost pleading. _:How does anyone live like that?:_

Melody felt a corner of her mouth twitch into a bitter smile. _:Welcome to the world, kid:_ Maybe not the most helpful thing to say, it might sound dismissive, but it wasn’t false.

 _:I hate it. I feel like I’ll never be sure of anything ever again:_ Yfandes’ tail flicked against the door of the stall. _:I feel… I mean, this is stupid, I already knew this. That there’s no, I don’t know, no force for justice and good. Not really. There are forces bigger than me, than us – the Star-Eyed Goddess wants something, Vkandis wants something, but it’s not the same as what I want. It’s like Van says, like Leareth says – there are littles starving in the streets of Haven. Within a mile of here. Have you ever really and truly thought about that, Melody? There are people dying of wars and hunger and disease, and there’s no reason why, it’s just…the thing that happens. Like water flowing downhill. And then some god somewhere poked the world, and my Chosen had to lose a lifebonded partner, because the gods wanted a tool to stop Leareth. But they didn’t bother to do anything, ever, about all the rest. Have you ever thought about that?:_

 _More than you know_. Melody cupped both hands under her chin, and remembered to center and ground. To breathe. The rage rolled from Yfandes in waves – neither hot nor cold, only too-bright, blazing, like the noonday sunlight glancing from the river.

 _:I know:_ she sent. There were no other words.

Silence.

 _:What did you See?:_ Yfandes sent finally, her mindvoice calmer. _:Did I break something? Is that why it hurts so much?:_

 _Maybe you did._ Melody would have to Look at another Companion for comparison, she thought. The shift wasn’t, quite, analogous to anything a fully human mind could do. _:Sometimes pain is an appropriate response:_ she sent. _:Sometimes things are awful, and we can’t fix it, and there’s nothing that makes that anything but a tragedy:_

 _:That’s exactly what Van would say:_ A bittersweet mental chuckle, obscurely reminiscent of chestnuts roasting and popping.

 _:See? You’re not alone:_ Melody swallowed against the hot tightness in her throat.

 _:That’s not how it’s supposed to work!:_ Baffled frustration, and a deeper shame. _:He needs me to support him. I’m not supposed to be the one who needs his help:_

 _:Why not?:_ Melody shifted her shoulders, reaching to scratch an itch. She’d been too long sitting down; her legs wanted to move.

 _:…Because that’s what Companions are for. But that’s fake:_ Another, darker laugh. _:Kernos’ balls, that’s exactly what Van used to say about ‘duty’. About virtue. That only results are real:_ Yfandes squirmed a little on the straw. _:It was comforting, having a purpose. A comforting lie:_

 _:It’s all right to need comfort:_ Melody sent. _:It’s very human:_

_:I’m not meant to be human:_

Right. _:I don’t know how Companions talk about this:_ Melody sent. _:Your mind isn’t quite the same as a human’s, but the differences are fairly small:_ And those differences looked artificial. Built. Not like a Mindhealer would build up patterns – it was clearly in the substrate beneath the threads, far too deep for Melody to shift. The root of the Companion-bond, not as much like a lifebond as she had expected, somehow more made-of-parts. An extra frame, and over time it became intrinsic to how the threads were woven, but it was still separate.

Maybe it was how a god would build a mind, based on the template of a human, if they needed a creature that couldn’t be corrupted. Because that was the easiest way to implement it, wasn’t it? A bright line that couldn’t be crossed. A sense of driving purpose that would never fade.

Until just the right circumstances set it at cross-purposes with itself.

It was a bizarre, disturbing, and painful thought, and she kept it to herself.

 _:What did Rolan say to you?:_ she sent instead. Surely the Monarch’s Own Companion had noticed the change.

 _:…He told me just how furious he was. Very colourfully:_ There was a definite cringe in her mindvoice, the embarrassment of a naughty child. _:Taver never used so many swearwords. And then he said that I had done something unforgivable and I didn’t deserve a second chance, but Van did, and so I had better earn mine:_

The anger rose like bile in her throat. _Cold bastard_ , she thought, but with the faintest hint of respect under the fury. _:I’m going to talk to him:_ she sent. _:Yfandes – I won’t say I’m not angry with you, because I am. I look out for my people, and Van is one of my people. He’ll try to hide it from you, how bad it was for him, because he won’t want you to worry. It was very, very bad. I should know; I spent half a day in full mind-rapport. Nothing you can ever do will take back the fact that you just put him through the worst five days of his life. Five whole days. I am very, very displeased about it:_

By the end of it, her mindvoice was a blistering mental shout. Yfandes flinched away from her, not that there was far to go. Curled against her, Vanyel groaned, a faint frown-line appearing between his brows. Oops. Melody quickly tightened her directional shields.

 _:And I’m sorry:_ Melody added, softening. _:Because I’m sure they were the worst five days of your life as well. I’m sorry the world is this way; I’m sorry you had to bear something that was too heavy for you. You’re one of Van’s people, Yfandes, which means you’re one of my people, and I intend to help both of you:_

Utter silence.

Melody dragged a hand over her face; her cheeks felt hot. Center and ground. Shield. _:I’m done ranting:_ she sent. _:I’m not normally this unprofessional:_ Although it had been far too common in the last week. Another thing to be irritated about, that she apparently couldn’t handle this kind of stress gracefully anymore. During the war–

No, that had been different. Long days, never enough sleep, an endless parade of horrors that broke her heart, but nothing that would really affect her own private life once she went home. Nothing that shook her entire conception of reality.

Leareth was different.

Honestly, Vanyel had always been different. She remembered lying awake years ago, mulling over what it meant that a goddess was at work in the world, muddling the mind-patterns of a person she was supposed to help. Oh, she had been plenty angry then.

 _:Thank you:_ Yfandes’ mindvoice was a whisper on the breeze.

 _:You’re welcome:_ Melody let her head fall back against the boards, feeling her hair catch on a dozen splinters. _:I’m just going to sit here a bit:_ She had probably been more tired than this before. After Sunhame, for one, and in the aftermath of some of the worst battles near Horn. Still, she wasn’t sure she had ever felt quite this emotionally drained.

Some minutes later, she heard the change in Vanyel’s breathing a moment before her weak Receptive Empathy picked up the fringes of something. Fear. Flashes of trees, rushing by, the feel of strong arms holding him. Seething, snake-like bodies. A glowing arch.

Too late to head off the nightmare and soothe him back to dreamless sleep; she hadn’t been paying attention. In general, she preferred not to block nightmares – they served an important purpose – but she recognized this one, and had no qualms about interrupting it. Some memories didn’t need to be replayed any more times.

She sighed and reached out with a Mindtouch. _:Van, wake up:_

Her shields caught the instinctive mind-strike he flung back at her, though it set her head to throbbing, and then he was scrambling up, chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused.

 _Ow._ She held up her hands. “Van, hey, it’s all right. It’s just me. You’re safe.”

He stared blankly at her, then his eyes darted around, hands digging into the straw, clearly very disoriented.

 _:It was just a nightmare:_ she sent, pushing through as much reassurance as she could. Not the most helpful – it wasn’t really ‘just a nightmare’, it was his real and immutable past. _:You’re in the stables with me and ‘Fandes:_ Damn it, but it would be nice to have Jisa’s level of Projective Empathy. She had gotten spoiled, counting on the girl’s help.

Vanyel twisted back over one shoulder, saw Yfandes, and something in his face closed as he turned back towards her.

Melody held out her arms, and somewhat to her surprise, he shuffled over and leaned into her, tucking his head under her chin. It wasn’t very often that he let her offer that sort of comfort. _Be honest with yourself, woman, it’s because you don’t really like touching people, and he can tell._ It did let her push harder with her weak Projective Empathy as she held him, firmly, but not tightly enough to feel claustrophobic.

 _:He’s blocking me:_ Yfandes sent, plaintive, hurt.

 _:Yfandes, please give him space for a minute:_ Melody leaned into her Othersight, checking over the various redirect-patterns. They were holding well enough.

She relaxed her arms a moment before Vanyel tried to squirm free. He made a sheepish face, not quite meeting her eyes. “Sorry. Um, did I fall asleep again? I’m so sorry.”

“I should apologize for tiring you out,” she said dryly. He didn’t want to be in the stables anymore, she could guess, but it was hard to tell what he did want; probably he didn’t know either. “Hmm. Care to go for a walk? It might help clear your head.”

“Mmm.” Vanyel knuckled at his eyes, then leaned back and ran his hand down Yfandes’ mane, his expression flattening a little; she guessed he was Mindspeaking with her. A moment later, he smiled,sadly, and Yfandes lifted her head and whuffed at his shirt-sleeve.

 _They’ll be all right_ , she thought quietly to herself. _Eventually._

* * *

_:Right here:_ Shavri sent.

Moondance nodded and stopped in front of the unadorned wooden door. The Palace still seemed very strange to him. It was so big, like an _ekele_ the size of an entire Vale, and all made of stone – it felt like being underground, in one of the caves where the _hertasi_ preferred to live, but all corners and squares rather than comforting natural contours.

Someone had dragged those massive blocks into place, hundreds, no, thousands of them, building up floor upon floor. Moondance wondered if it had been done by magic. Probably not. There weren’t enough mages in Valdemar – less than one-fifth the number now in k’Treva, for a kingdom a thousand times the size of the Vale.

More than anything, the Palace radiated age. It had stood for eight hundred years, and he could well imagine it would last a thousand more. It was rare that a Vale stayed in one place for even fifty winters; k’Treva had moved twice in his time there.

He and Starwind had a set of rooms to themselves. Aside from feeling like oversized boxes, they were comfortable enough. The very young Herald who had introduced herself as Dara had led them there – no, he reminded himself, still only a trainee, she had yet to pass their final tests.

He liked her. _She reminds me of my shay’kreth’ashke._ She had Starwind’s level-headed confidence and practicality. Hopefully not his temper. If she was overawed by meeting a real live Hawkbrother out of tales, it hadn’t showed.

Starwind was in bed, and Moondance hoped to join him soon, but there was one more conversation he needed to have tonight.

Before he could reach for it, the door opened. “Shavri, wha– Oh.” The tall, plump red-haired woman blinked, reminding him obscurely of an owl. “Hello,” she said, her voice mild. “You must be Moondance.”

“I am. You are Melody?”

“That’s me.” Her hands darted in front of her. “Come in, I suppose. Shavri, were you…?”

“No, I’m going.” Shavri ducked her head. “I’ll see both of you tomorrow.”

 _:Rest well:_ Moondance sent, reaching to catch her hand briefly. The sword swung at her hip, and he tried not to stare too obviously at it.

“Come on,” Melody said. “You’re letting the heat out.”

He followed her into the room. Despite the ever-present corners, it was…cozy. He turned on the spot for a moment, looking about him.

“Tea?” Melody offered. “Go on, have a seat. How long did you want to talk? I was about to go to bed.”

“I am not sure.” Moondance followed her gaze and made his way to the long padded chair that was against one of the walls. “I wish to ask your help for a thing. It may take some time to explain.”

“This is for the meeting you were trying to convince Randi to have?” Melody made a face. “Shavri told me a bit about it, earlier. Wish it could wait, I’m worn out.” Her eyes flashed to the window, then back to him, as she moved to retrieve a burbling kettle from above her hearth. “What exactly are we doing, and why am I supposed to be there?”

Moondance pressed his hands together, searching for the right words. Valdemaran wasn’t his first language, though the dialect of his home village was probably related to it – he was much more fluent in Tayledras, which he had learned at the same time at sixteen, because Starwind had been able to place it directly in his mind.

Start with the same speech he had given to King Randale, slightly amended. “In our Vale, we have a custom…”

Melody listened without comment, nodding in appropriate places as she bustled about and carried over a wooden tray. “I see,” she said. “Given what I’ve been noticing, that does seem like… No, I’m not going to say a good idea. It sounds like boiling a pot with a sealed lid. I agree about the problem we have, but. You’re sure about this?”

“What have you noticed?” Moondance said, jumping onto the first half. Plenty of time to address the rest, after.

“Well, instead of talking to each other, everyone’s coming to _me_ and unloading on the others behind their backs.” Melody sighed. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. It’s not everyone, and it’s very understandable. Just, that isn’t my job.”

“No.” Moondance accepted the delicate-looking cup she offered him. “You know,” he said after a moment, “my Wingbrother speaks very highly of you.”

“Vanyel?” Melody’s hand fidgeted with her green robes, smoothing and re-wrinkling a fold of cloth. “I’m flattered, I suppose. He’s spoken well of you too.” She leaned forward to retrieve her own cup from the table. “It’s really helped him, having you here.”

Moondance ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warm. “I did only what any friend must.” Little enough, really.

“You’re not angry with him.” Melody’s voice was thoughtful, a little distant.

“No.” Starwind was, though he had hidden it well enough in Vanyel’s presence. “I do not see what the point would be.”

“You’d be surprised. Everyone else is at least a little angry, and that includes Savil.”

Less so now, Moondance thought. _I think that I truly helped._ One note of relief, even pride, in a sea of unsettled worry. “She is hurt. And yet, I think Vanyel did not mean to wrong her. I know him, and I trust he has tried his best to do what is right, all these years.” Such a very long time that Vanyel had carried that burden alone – and there was an ache, there, but it was Moondance’s own pain, that he hadn’t known, hadn’t been able to help, and it accomplished nothing to blame Vanyel for it. “The world is not black and white. There are impossible choices, and fights that cannot be won… And the gods work above us, to what end I am not sure.” _What a strange time to be alive._

He remembered, a long time ago – six years, seven – searching, more and more frantic. Finding Vanyel sprawled on the floor in the Heartstone’s sanctum, pale and cold, the moment’s helpless panic as he tried and failed to wake him. Remembered Vanyel’s voice, hoarse and distant. _I think I wanted to talk to the Star-Eyed. Shout at Her, rather._

Years later, Vanyel had mentioned something about seeing Melody before Sunhame, that it had to do with what had happened before, but he hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it and Moondance hadn’t pushed. He had noticed since then that Van seemed to avoid touching the Heartstone, and he had wondered.

“Gods be damned,” Melody said, and there was a harsh edge to her voice that surprised him. “That’s my least favourite thing about this entire situation. I do _not_ like knowing there might be uncanny forces meddling here.”

 _The Star-Eyed watches over us._ Moondance kept those words to himself. Melody wasn’t Tayledras; she wouldn’t understand.

“You are frustrated,” he said out loud.

“How perceptive of you. Yes. I’m very, very frustrated.” Her hand rose to her hair, jerkily.

“It must be a trying time. You are bearing it well, I think,” Moondance said softly. It was the closest thing to comfort he could offer, to this woman he barely knew at all. _I do not think it would be easy to know her._ She had put him at ease, without apparent effort, but something in her was aloof.

“Thank you.” Melody shook her head. “I keep snapping at people. Don’t mean to but it slips out. I’m embarrassed, honestly, normally I’ve got better self-control than that.”

“The others understand, I am sure.” Moondance sipped his cooling tea, waiting to see if she would add anything more. “To move on,” he said, when she didn’t. “What I wish us to do. I would like your help in leading it, if you are willing.”

“Oh.” Melody paused, eyes passing across the room before settling on his face again. A dozen expressions flashed across her face, but when she spoke, her voice was mild. “Tell me what I need to do?”

It would be the first time he had tried to fully explain it to an outsider. “There is a structure,” he said. “You are right – simply to set all of you into a room to air your hurts would be messy, and would not help.” Where to start? “What we do, there is no goal to it, except to truly see one another. That is what is lost, after all, when we are trapped in our own hurt and anger. We will need a shielded room, because we are to take down the surface-level of our shields.” He paused, thinking. “Everyone present is Mind-Gifted?” He had done it before with un-Gifted scouts present, and it was possible, but more complicated.

Melody closed her eyes, briefly counting on her fingers. “Yes,” she said finally. “Randi the least, but even he has a little bit of Mindspeech.” She hesitated. “Although, I have to confess, taking down shields doesn’t exactly seem like an improvement, here.”

“It is only the first step. No – perhaps the second. There is a thing you have taught my Wingbrother, to sense what he is feeling in his body, and name it. I would have you show everyone the same.”

“Hmm.” Melody’s finger tapped the rim of her cup. “I see.”

“It is one anchor. You are to be another.” He waited until she nodded. Something had occurred to him. “Perhaps… We do not have one Gifted as you are, in our Vale, and there is a thing your Gift might add. A thing that I noticed, with your young student. Could you push your Gift onto a group?”

“Huh.” Melody’s hands paused. “Maybe? Not to do anything complicated.”

“You would not have to _do_ anything, I do not think. Simply loosen patterns-of-thought, so that it becomes easier to name that which we are tempted to hide. There are drugs that we use for this, sometimes, but I do not have them here.”

“Hmm.” Melody frowned. “It seems risky, but I can see that it would help with that part. I suppose if I’m careful…” 

“That will be the third step, then. The fourth is a rule, which I will tell to everyone at the beginning. In this, we hide nothing, but we each speak for ourselves only. Of what we feel, inside – and of what we think we see in others, and the stories we tell of it, what we think it means, but we remember those stories are in us and not in them.” He paused. “This is the hardest part, but we speak of the moment only. Not the past, and not the future.”

“Fascinating. And you’re saying you use this to resolve disputes, in your Vales?”

Moondance shook his head. “No. The purpose must not be to make decisions. Only to build a space where it is safe to see and be seen, for a time.”

“I’m still confused.” Melody uncrossed her legs. “Figure I could follow that structure, though.”

Moondance nodded firmly. _She is very quick._ “That is most of it. I will help, and Starwind might also. My _shay’kreth’ashke_ has been present in many of these.”

“Right.” Melody looked past him, clearly thinking. “Well, I can try. It’s going to be outside where I feel comfortable.” Her eyes fixed on him, piercing. “And it didn’t sound like we were even doing it for sure, when Shavri spoke to me.”

Moondance ducked his head in acknowledgement. “Your King Randale said to Shavri that he would consider it if you agreed. Herald Tantras is the one who is reluctant.”

“Of course. That makes sense.” Melody sighed. “You want me to talk to him?”

“I would like that we both speak to him. It need not be tonight, if you wish to rest.”

“Well, actually, he did want to talk to me at some point. I could tell him I’m free now.”

* * *

Tantras stood uncertainty in Melody’s doorway.

It was the first time he had seen her personal quarters. They reminded him a lot of her – almost painfully neat, but still cozy and lived-in, the curtains matching the upholstery, a tasteful rug cushioning the stone floor. There was a large tapestry on one wall, showing the image of a foaming waterfall.

“Well, come on in,” Melody said, waving to him from where she was seated on the small sofa.“Don’t just stand there. Tea?” There was a tea-tray on the low table in front of her, a pot covered in a knitted cozy.

She gave no acknowledgement to the man sitting next to her, not even glancing his way. _He must be one of the Hawkbrothers,_ Tran thought, trying not to stare. Extravagant robes in a dozen layers, like a walking flower-garden, topped by cascading locks of snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes.

Tran wasn’t sure what to think of it, and it felt too awkward to say anything. _I was really hoping for privacy._

He pulled the door shut behind him, and took one of the armchairs, perching on the edge. “Thank you for making time to see me,” he said cautiously. It was hard to sit still without fidgeting; despite the fatigue that weighted his limbs, he felt restless. Itchy.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.” Melody poured a fresh cup of tea, and slid it across the table towards him. “I’ll leave time for whatever you wanted to cover, after, but. This hypothetical discussion that Randi may want us to have tomorrow. What do you think of the idea?”

 _Oh, is that why he’s here?_ Tran managed not to visibly flinch. “It’s a bad idea. Randi can do it if he wants, I suppose, but I won’t participate.”

“Hmm.” Melody’s hand darted out, tugged her sleeve straight. “I think it may be a good idea, actually. There’s a real problem here, that needs to be addressed.”

Tran felt his spine go rigid, heat blooming in his chest. “Yes, there’s a problem,” he said tightly. “His name is Vanyel.”

Melody winced. “Tantras, I don’t–”

The Hawkbrother held up a hand, and she cut off.

“May I say a thing?” the man said; he had an odd accent, but otherwise spoke Valdemaran fluidly. He waited a beat. “Herald Tantras. This is what I am seeing, in you. You hold yourself like a man who believes he is under threat. I imagine you feel tense, and angry, perhaps afraid – and I tell myself a story that it is because you wish to protect your Kingdom’s future, and you fear that my Wingbrother Vanyel is a threat to that which you care about. I am curious if any of that is right.”

 _What?_ For a moment, Tran could only stare at him, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“I mean, yes,” he pushed out, finally. “I’m _really scared._ Which is a reasonable response to learning that the most powerful mage in our kingdom has been making friends with a bloodpath mage who wants to murder ten million people.” He took a deep breath. “Also. What are you doing?”

A hint of a smile played around those ice-blue eyes, though the Hawkbrother’s mouth was serious. “I will tell you in a moment. I would like to know how it felt to you, to say this to me. I imagine that perhaps something in you is looser, now.”

Tran blinked at him. Now that he thought about it, he did notice that the muscles in his back had relaxed, just a little. Mostly he felt incredibly confused. “Maybe,” he said warily. _This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had._

“I will tell you how it felt for me to hear your words,” the man said, eyes never leaving his face. “I notice a softening in my chest; I feel relief, and gladness, that you felt safe enough to speak of your true feelings to me, though we met only seconds ago. I feel respect, that you stand by your convictions and your duty to Valdemar, though it may bring you into disagreement and conflict with others close to you.” He bent his head. “And…I feel hurt, on behalf of my Wingbrother, but that pain is mine to bear.”

Tran rubbed his eyes. _Am I dreaming?_ “Why are you doing this?” he said dully.

“I wish to see you clearly, and speak openly. Did I succeed?”

 _I feel like a mouse being stared at by an owl._ “I guess so.”

“Good.” A real smile, this time; it seemed to raise the temperature of the whole room. “That is the purpose of what I wish us to do. There is pain between you – between all of you, not only with Vanyel – and so often that stands in our way. That is why I think that you need a space where you might speak and be heard, where you need not hide. The purpose is not to reconcile – there is no conclusion here, no goal except that we see one another clearly.” He paused, his gaze drifting for the first time. “I would like that you do this with us, but first and foremost I wish you to respect yourself and your own limits. I would not ask you to do this thing, if in truth you would not feel safe to speak openly.”

“You want me to go in front of Vanyel and tell him exactly what I’m feeling towards him?” Tran said. He still wanted to pinch himself. “How in the world is that supposed to help?”

“It is a wall between you,” the Hawkbrother said simply, “and a weight on both of you. Perhaps there is no forgiveness to be had, and still I think that it might be a relief to bring this into the open.” His head tilted to the side. “You avoid him, no? Even in your own thoughts.”

This time, Tran did flinch. He had caught himself shying away from thinking about Vanyel more than once, but he didn’t think it had been visible. “Are you reading me with Thoughtsensing?”

A raised eyebrow. “No. Simply guessing.”

He tried to pull together his scattered thoughts. “I wish you would stop making ‘guesses’ about me,” he said. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I am Moondance, Healing-Adept to k’Treva.” A pause. “I will not argue with you on your choice. It would be disrespectful. I wish simply for you to have all the information.”

Silence.

Melody spoke again. “I’m guessing you’re worried about Vanyel pulling out some clever but misleading argument in Leareth’s favour, when you’re in a vulnerable position?”

That had been one of his worries. With shields down, Vanyel would be able to use his projective Mind-Gifts to be extra convincing. Maybe even lay a compulsion. Would he go that far?

“I understand the concern,” Melody went on, “but I think we can mitigate it. I’ll be watching, for one. The point is explicitly not to talk about facts or events, or upcoming decision, and I intend to make sure we stick to that. It would be nice to have your help with that, actually.”

Oh. That was a factor he hadn’t considered – that if Randi and the others went ahead with this _without_ him, Vanyel would have unopposed access to them.

“I will leave you to think on it.” Moondance stood, in a swirl of robes. “Perhaps I will see you on the morrow.”

Melody watched him leave, then turned back to Tran. “Now that that’s out of the way. What else did you want to talk about?”

* * *

Vanyel stared blankly at his sister. Andrel’s back was already retreating; dusk had fallen candlemarks ago, the Healer was clearly late for wherever he was supposed to be next, and had made his goodbyes and bolted the minute Lissa arrived.

They were still in the big loose-box usually reserved for mares in foal, Yfandes curled up in the straw. Vanyel had been there most of the afternoon, except for the walk he had taken with Melody – even then, he had lasted about ten minutes before he was ready to turn and sprint back to the stables, part of him filled with panic that Yfandes wouldn’t be there anymore. During the candlemarks since then, the frantic pressure and confusion had risen a few times, and he had backed away from her touch, huddling against the opposite wall – but even then, the thought of not being able to _see_ her, to confirm with his own eyes that she was real and there, had been unbearable. Fortunately, no one seemed to expect him to go anywhere, and Yfandes apparently didn’t mind his clinginess.

–An affectionate poke. _:Of course I don’t mind. I don’t want you out of my sight either:_

Vanyel returned the wordless love, even though it had knocked him off balance. He was still startled every time Yfandes spoke into his mind, but he was trying very hard not to shield her out.

“Lissa,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Coming to join you out here, obviously.” Standing in the hay-strewn corridor between the rows of stalls, she dragged a wheelbarrow that looked like it might have been stolen from the Palace gardeners. It was piled high with what he recognized as every blanket and cushion from her own quarters, including her travel bedroll and the canvas tarp from her tent-kit, plus a few knitted coverlets that he thought were Savil’s.

“I thought we could make it a proper sleepover. Remember when we were little and we used to build blanket-forts in my bedroom? One of the worst parts of being a grownup is not getting to do that anymore.”

Despite himself, Vanyel smiled back a little. “And then Meke would tattle, and Father would tell me off for sleeping in the girls’ room.”

Lissa rolled her eyes. “I’d forgotten that part. Still don’t understand why he punished you and not me. It was always my idea.”

“Well, you know Father.” He felt the smile fade. It shouldn’t have hurt anymore, but it did.

“Fortunately, Father isn’t here.” Lissa’s voice was determinedly cheerful. “Come on, help me out.” She swung a travel-pack down from her shoulders. “I brought us a picnic too.”

Yfandes lifted her head, rising gracefully as well, and Vanyel sensed her amusement rippling through their bond. _:What an excellent idea:_

He reached out to stroke her mane, which was finally free of knots and debris; it had taken him two candlemarks to comb it out. Her thinness, the too-visible ribs, would take longer to fix, but Vanyel had been making sure her grain-dish was kept filled. He had requested an extra blanket for her even though Savil’s weather-barrier was still up active, keeping the air pleasantly warm.

She had teased him a little for fussing over her, but she wasn’t complaining.

Vanyel helped Lissa lay down the tough canvas, covering the straw down one side of the stall, then pad it out with the cushions from her sofa. “They’re going to get dirty,” he warned her.

“So? They’re old. Mother would be appalled I didn’t get new ones years ago.” Lissa glanced around. “I’m glad you nabbed the bigger stall. We’ll be a bit squished, but no worse than you sharing my tent that time. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Sleeping with Yfandes on one side and Lissa on the other sounded…nice, actually. She was presumably intending to stay awake all night again, which he felt guilty about – he had thoroughly uprooted her routine, and she didn’t even know why.

 _:Oh, stop it:_ Another prod from Yfandes. _:I think she’s enjoying the break from her usual duties, actually:_

Lissa was still smirking to herself as she untied the neck of her pack and started pulling out wrapped items. He wondered what she had been telling the Lord Marshal, who she reported to. _Why didn’t I think about that earlier?_ He had been so wrapped up in himself, oblivious to his surroundings.

Lissa was unwrapping a bottle now. “Melody said I’m not to get you drunk,” she said, sounding disappointed. “So I got us a different treat. Raspberry cordial. Remember how it was your favourite, when you were little?”

“Liss, I’m not six anymore.” She looked so proud of herself, though, he couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She looked smug. “I had to go all over to find it.”

All because it might, maybe, cheer him up a little. _I don’t deserve you, Liss._

 _:Hey:_ Yfandes batted at his mind. _:Stop it, love:_

–He felt tears spring to his eyes, apropos of nothing. For so long, Yfandes had been a constant presence, offering her support unasked, nudging him when he was being negative. But not recently. Not for years. Even now, it was hard to remember not to shield her out, and not just because of the last few days; it seemed the habit of keeping her blocked from his surface thoughts ran deep.

 _How did I live like that?_ He had taken something precious, and pushed it away.

And tomorrow he would need to be without her again, even if only for a few candlemarks. Moondance had been the one who came out and explained it to him, earlier in the evening. It sounded terrifying, climbing into a stew-pot with everyone who was most angry with him and letting them close the lid, but Moondance thought it was a good idea, and Vanyel trusted him. He would survive it, somehow.

“Liss…” He reached out, and then stopped, unsure what he wanted to say. Yfandes was back, he had that much to hold onto, but everything was still slippery confusion.

Lissa’s eyes rested on him, her face like a window thrown wide open. She took his hand between both of hers. “What, Van?”

“…Glad you’re here.”

“Oh, Van. I’m not going anywhere.” She let go of his hand. “Come on, let’s eat the pastries before they get cold.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this entire chapter is Circling

_So we’re doing this._

“Let’s get started,” Melody said. As usual, her voice was very mild, her expression unruffled over the rim of her teacup – but, if Savil had to guess, she was more than a little dubious about the whole thing. _That makes two of us._ “I’m going to be leading this, mostly,” the Mindhealer went on, “but I’ll let Moondance explain a bit first.” 

They were in the communal Work Room, eight hundred years old, layer upon layer of shields laid by generations of Herald-Mages. Unlike the peripheral Work Rooms, it was nestled in the heart of the Palace, with no door leading directly to outside. They couldn’t have gotten the Companions inside even if there had been space to fit them, which there wasn’t. 

They were on their own. 

_We’re not Heralds right now_. The thought drifted up, and she wondered at it. No Companions. No duties and no goals. Only each other. 

Moondance nodded and slid forwards, closer to the center. “We are all of the people in your Valdemar who know of Leareth’s plan, and our Wingbrother Vanyel’s part in learning of it. There are plans to be made, but that is for tomorrow…” 

He went on speaking, covering what he had said to Randi yesterday, then going to details. Savil found herself nodding along. Shields down. No attacking each other, no name-calling, no rounds of blame. _Maybe I can do this._ Melody was there, she reminded herself. And, if she didn’t have Kellan, at least she had Starwind beside her. 

Starwind had done something like this before, and he thought it was a good idea for their situation. She trusted him. 

She shifted her weight on the cushion under her. Like all of the Work Rooms, this one was bare stone, but Moondance had taken one look at it that morning and asked her to please ‘make it softer’, and she had commandeered some of the Palace servants to bring in every pillow, blanket, and rug they could find, turning the place to a giant nest. Moondance’s weather-barrier kept the air comfortably warm, and her own mage-lights floated near the ceiling. A tray in the center bore a teapot and cups. Only Melody was drinking it. 

“So that’s the structure,” Melody said after Moondance had finished and settled back against the cushion-piled wall. “Remember, there’s no specific purpose here. No destination. We’re not trying to figure out what to do next, or even really trying to answer any questions or figure out what’s true. Just to name some of our emotions, and the idea is to stay in the here-and-now, rather than airing all the grievances you’ve been ruminating over before today. In service of that, I want to make sure everyone knows a technique I use, to help give words to feelings when they’re murky. Some of you know it already, but I’m going to review it with each of you one-on-one anyway. Dara, you first.” 

They must have switched to Mindspeech, though it was hard to tell with Dara; she was an unusually discreet Mindspeaker. The girl sat to the left of the door, next to Tran, and if she was out of her element, she was hiding it well. 

Randi was nearest the door on the other side, Shavri beside him, and then Van, between Shavri and Moondance, touching neither of them but clearly taking comfort from their presence. 

Starwind was glued to Moondance’s side, obviously, and Savil had settled in next to the older Hawkbrother. The arrangement left a large gap between her and Tran, which Melody had settled in the middle of. 

Savil waited. After a moment, she rolled her shoulders, forcing them to relax, and then leaned on Starwind. He sat with his legs crossed – damn it, but it was unfair he was still that flexible even after his injury – and with his still-clumsy right arm draped over Moondance. Vanyel was staring into the distance, carefully avoiding looking at Randi. Or Tran. Or her. 

It was her turn soon enough. _:Savil:_ Melody sent. _:It’ll make this quicker if I can go into your mind and show you:_

Well, she had let Starwind do the same with her often enough. She nodded and widened the opening in her shields, letting Melody reach in closer. Like following a dance-partner, letting herself be spun and dipped–

Oh. _:That’s very odd:_

_:Try it on your own. What are you feeling in your body?:_

Mostly a very upset stomach. She tried to sink deeper into it, following the strange sideways mental motion that Melody had shown her – it was like reaching to center and ground, but different. Tension in her gut, somehow razor-edged, like a wire pulled tight. Not quite fear. Anxiety was closer. Trepidation. Not quite disconcerted, but…perturbed. That was it. 

_:Good, you’ve got it:_ Melody sent, and dropped the connection. 

She wasn’t sure she liked it. Well, Lance had always said she wasn’t comfortable with her feelings. _I really should know better at my age._ If she hadn’t spent a lifetime practicing the skill of ignoring them, maybe she would. 

“Good,” Melody said finally. “This is one of the more important parts. Stay anchored to the present, in your body. There’s going to be a lot of backwash bouncing around, with all of us unshielded and projecting – if it starts to feel overwhelming, center and ground, and go through what I just showed you again, remind yourself what’s yours and what belongs to other people. If it’s still too much, you’re welcome to bring your shields up, and I’ll check in with you before you rejoin. Actually, I want to make clear that you can bring your shields up anytime, for any reason. Respect your own limits. You can start with shields up and just observe, as well – it’s not mandatory to participate. And, of course, you can leave the room at any time, though I would appreciate you checking in with me first.” 

She spoke crisply, confidently. Like she knew what she was doing. _I’m pretty sure this is the first time she’s tried anything like this._

“It’s the first time I’m doing this,” Melody added, and Savil felt a corner of her lips tug up. “So bear with me. It isn’t going to be a true group-link, once we’re set up, you won’t need to put effort into holding it – but for the initial step, it might be easier to hop into a group-link and _then_ take down our shields. I’ll hold the center. Please link to the people on either side of you, and with me once the chain is complete.”

It was a struggle to mesh shields with Starwind, despite their long years of intimate friendship – she felt his mind sliding against hers, his mental ‘hands’ unsteady and grasping, and she pulled him in and tried to stabilize it. She could already feel Moondance there – and, a moment later, Vanyel. Then Shavri, and through her, Randi. The meld felt unstable; Savil had never shared minds with this exact set of people, before, and certainly not when they were all some degree of unsettled. Moondance was the stablest point, not her. 

Still, she pulled all of them closer, and then flung out a link to Melody, meshing shields. 

_:Good:_ Melody sent, her mindvoice echoing between them. _:Hold it. Like I said, I’m going to put some of my Gift in now:_

The corners of the room softened. 

_:Shields down, if you’re comfortable with it:_ Melody sent. 

It was hard. So, so hard. Savil wasn’t sure if she had _ever_ just…taken her shields down, like this. Not in decades, at least. It felt like unpicking the seams of a garment she had woven in place around her. 

The meld wobbled, and then shifted into something else. Melody was right; it didn’t take effort to manage anymore. Instead, it felt oddly as though part of her was in the Work Room, sitting on a rug-covered mattress with her back against a cushion, and the rest of her was in another room. One that existed only in her mind. The others were there, too, but…naked. Metaphorically. More than just naked – without skin. _That’s a slightly more gruesome analogy than I wanted._

Beside her, she heard Starwind’s mental chuckle. _:Gruesome yet accurate:_ The undirected Mindspeech seemed to echo, overtones sloshing. _Oh_. She was picking up, not just on his words and the accompanying dark-edged amusement, but the reactions of everyone else, eddies in a pond, nervous laughter and the apprehension lurking behind it. 

…Not quite everyone, yet – though Van, to her surprise, was already fully open, leaking something a little too like dread for her liking.

_:I want to say something:_ Tantras sent into the group-link – not quite as tight as formal Mindspeech, but his shields were still mostly up. _:I’m still dubious this is a good idea. Given what’s happened with Van, I’m worried some of his beliefs and arguments could be hazardous to other people as well, especially when we’re vulnerable. Only reason I agreed to come, is that we’re not here to debate what’s true, so arguments like that should be off-limits. I wanted to remind everyone of that:_

And he lowered his shields, and ‘appeared’ in the room-in-her-mind, naked, open. Not leaking as much anger as Savil had expected, but there was hardness there.

Seven, now. Randi was clearly still having difficulties. To Savil’s surprise, so was Shavri. 

_:Randi:_ Melody sent. _:I think I see what’s happening here. You never had the standard Mindspeech training, so your shields aren’t entirely under your conscious control. If you let me… Like this:_

_:Oh:_ His mindvoice was faint, but clearer than she had ever heard from him before. 

_:Shavri?:_

_:I’m trying!:_ There was frustration in the Healer’s mindvoice, and an odd hesitation. 

_:Anchor in your body:_ Moondance sent. _:You will not lose yourself, Shavri. I will make certain of it:_

Slowly, with obvious effort, the Healer’s shields parted, and then dropped entirely. With her mage-sight, Savil could see the change. Nine multicoloured auras, once distinct, were now unbound and spreading, mixing at the edges. Starwind and Moondance were in full rapport, auras merged to a single green-gold-blue sphere…and, to her surprise, so were Randi and Shavri. She didn’t think she had ever seen them do it before. _Maybe that’s just what happens if you’re lifebonded and take down your shields with each other._ If Randi never had…

She felt Vanyel’s flinch. _:Sorry, ke’chara:_ She hadn’t meant to think it so loudly. 

_:It’s all right:_ She half-felt it as he centered and grounded, steadying himself, and leaned in closer to Moondance – to Starwind-and-Moondance. 

_:Your surface thoughts will project sometimes:_ Melody sent. _:That’s fine. It’s why we’re doing this in a shielded room. Is everyone doing all right, so far? Let’s take a minute. Center and ground, anchor yourselves:_

It wasn’t so bad, Savil thought. There was a lot, eddies of anxiety and fear and hurt, even anger, not to mention copious embarrassment – but somehow there was space for it. A whole room, where normally there was only her own head. The sense of having no skin was deeply disconcerting…but, right now, she could remember that it was just a feeling as well. 

_Center and ground._ Focus on the tension in her throat, something like an itch behind her breastbone. The strange urge to pull a house over her, like a snail. Defensive, she thought…and the itch eased a little, as though she had scratched it. _And I’m probably projecting all of that at everyone._ Add a note of self-consciousness to the mix. Well, apparently that was the goddamned point. 

_:Good:_ Melody sent. _:Would anyone like to start?:_

Everyone was still looking at Randi, and Shavri. Savil felt the ripple of a decision a moment before, in the room of bodies and matter, she saw Shavri lift her hand. 

_:I’ll go:_ the Healer sent. _:I notice I feel embarrassed, that everyone’s looking at me. And, I feel cold in my stomach. Uneasy, like I’m walking on eggshells. I’m guessing it’s because I’m nervous, that I’m expecting someone to be angry any moment:_ She paused. _:I want to hold Van’s hand or something. Because I imagine Van is feeling threatened? Melody, am I doing it right?:_

_:You’re doing fine:_ Melody sent. She was naked and skinless as well, but took up surprisingly little space; her mind was all clean lines, tidy, steady. _:Thank you, Shavri. Van, would you like to respond to Shavri?:_

He flinched, the edges of an instinctive shield starting to form before he seemed to deliberately uncoil. With his mind, at least, but not with his body – he was scrunched up, as though trying to take as little space as possible. _:I notice I feel tight and hot in my throat and my face. Embarrassed. Feels like I’m naked and everyone is staring at me. I keep having an urge to go under a blanket. To curl up and hide my soft parts:_ He rested a hand on his belly. _:And I feel heavy in my stomach, a bit sick. This is my fault. I failed all of you:_

Silence. 

_:I hear that:_ Melody sent. _:It sounds like you feel ashamed, and you have a story that it’s because you failed us. Van, how did it feel to you, to share that?:_

Embarrassed and defensive, Savil thought; Van hated being the center of attention. He took his time answering, though, clearly thinking about it. _:I don’t know. Maybe a bit less tense. Safer. I don’t feel threatened, exactly. Just fragile, maybe? Which is scary and I don’t like it, but…I’m here, I guess:_

Surprise, and it wasn’t just her own. Savil didn’t think she had _ever_ seen Van being so open, and evidently it was just as startling to the others. In the ordinary room, he was looking down at his hands, lines of tension around his eyes and mouth, twin red spots on his cheeks. 

In the other-room, he hid nothing. Embarrassment was only the surface, the shame and guilt a little further beneath – and below that, a pit of terror that made her long to reach out and hold him. Not fear of them; it was something deeper than that. Something worse. 

He wasn’t afraid of dying, she found herself thinking, but he was afraid of failing. 

_I’m sorry, ke’chara. I wish I could do more to help._

All of that was washing around, reaction and counter-reaction, Savil’s own guilt mixing into the bath and calling out echoes. Shavri leaned in towards Vanyel, with her aura more than her body. Tran was leaning away, still unshielded, but somehow apart, something like disdain in his posture – and she saw that Vanyel saw it, she saw his hurt, and how he held himself open to it. Unguarded. Like he deserved it. _Oh, Van._

She saw Moondance reach for Vanyel’s hand, and felt a pang, somewhere between gratitude and jealousy. 

Vanyel let Moondance grip his hand, still staring straight ahead, jaw working. _:Sorry. I’m not very good at this:_

_:No, you’re doing fine:_ Melody was smiling, a hint of pride leaking from her. _:Thank you, Vanyel. Shavri, did you have more to say?:_

_:Just a minute. I need to think:_ The Healer shifted her weight, aura rippling. _:Feels like there’s something sharp in my chest. Prickly. When I think about what Vanyel said, I want to – I don’t know, I feel sort of hot and restless. Angry:_

_:What do you think the anger is about?:_ Melody prompted. 

_:I feel protective, I guess:_ Shavri squirmed again, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs; she had moved a little away from Randi. _:I hate seeing Van in pain, and I want, I wish – I feel like we keep making it worse. I hate how – I have a story that people keep wanting me to take sides. Like I have to choose between betraying Valdemar, and betraying one of my best friends. Not even asking out loud, in the open, it’s all in the undercurrents and that makes it worse:_ She took a shuddering breath. _:I think about how we put Van under Truth Spell and I want to hit something. Even though Randi was right, and I don’t think we really had a choice–:_ Her shoulders sagged. _:It feels...heavy, thinking about that. Tired. Like all our options are terrible. I just – I wish I could feel like we were all on the same side:_

There was an echoing ache in Savil’s stomach. _Shavri, you don’t have to choose._ Except that she wasn’t even sure that was true. She had made a promise to Vanyel, that bound her as surely as iron shackles, and maybe it would still tear her apart, because she had sworn an oath to Randi as well. Moondance hadn’t seemed to think there was a contradiction there, and Savil wanted to believe him. _But I don’t know, ke’chara._

If she didn’t trust him – if he wasn’t a person whose reasoning and judgement were in Valdemar’s best interest, regardless of whether it was his fault – could she still be his friend in any way that counted? 

_:Randi:_ Shavri spoke again. _:I’m sorry, love, I know it’s not fair to you, to be resenting what you did. But you, I mean, I guess it feels in my head like you’re asking me to make this impossible choice, between supporting you and Van. And, just – I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t do that:_

Silence. Shavri’s shields had started to rise a few times, but each time she seemed to make a deliberate effort to relax, just in time to avoid shattering the rapport between her and Randi. There was defensiveness in her mindvoice, and pain, and Randi echoed both of those – but no anger that Savil could sense, on either side. 

_:Thank you, Shavri:_ Melody paused, sipping from her tea. _:Randi, would you like to respond?:_

The King nodded. _:I’ll try. A minute…:_ He closed his eyes.

* * *

Shavri watched Randi’s face – eyes closed, a dozen expressions flickering by that probably only she could read. It took every scrap of willpower she had to stay relaxed, shields down – not fighting, not struggling, not bursting into tears and begging for his forgiveness. 

Not getting up and running away. 

_I’m here for you, love, but I’m here for Van as well. I won’t lie about what I feel._

She didn’t try to project that thought, but she sensed Randi’s response to it anyway, rippling through their bond. It had never quite felt like this before – it was exhilarating, and terrifying. Like she might drown in it. 

_You will not lose yourself,_ Moondance had promised. Shavri took a deep breath. Center and ground. Anchor in her body. 

_:I feel...warm:_ Randi sent finally. _:It stung to hear you say that, Shavri, I wanted to curl up and hide, but – I don’t want that now. I think I feel proud of you, more than anything. Proud of everyone. This is so hard and complicated, and I’m asking you to help me because I don’t have the answers – I feel a bit embarrassed, saying that, like I should, but I really don’t:_ A pause. _:When you said it felt like you had to take sides, I had this feeling of wrongness, sort of dull and sick. Helpless. I guess I’d noticed it as well, that it felt like battle-lines being laid down, and I saw it happening but I couldn’t stop it:_

Shavri felt it as well. The helplessness, confusion, the sense that everything was slowly falling apart, already too late to salvage – and the part of her that rose up in protest. _Don’t give up yet. There’s still hope._

_:But I knew it was bad:_ Randi added. _:I think the only way we can get through this, is if we can be on the same team. Together. I want to believe it’s possible, that we all care about the same things in the end. We want Valdemar to survive, to thrive – that’s what this is about. That’s why it matters, why we’re all in this room together now:_

Oh. Shavri blinked, the sincerity in his mindvoice washing over her. Not hopeful, exactly, but there was a solidity there, granite bedrock underlying the words. 

Randi took a slow breath, let it out, and reached for her hand. She let him. 

_:Shavri, I want you to know that I love you:_ he sent. _:I feel grateful. I think that you’re navigating this better than I am, seeing different perspectives, trying to look out for Van in spite of everything that’s going on, and I’m glad you can do that. Even though I know, no, I have a story, that it’s hard, it’s costing you so much, and it’s not fair to put that on you. It feels like maybe you think you’re failing me, by not taking my side, but that isn’t true at all:_

Shavri squeezed his hand tightly, feeling tears swell. _It’s not your fault._ Strange how clear that felt, all of a sudden, when until five minutes ago she _had_ felt resentful, some part of her believing that Randi had to be hurt and angry that she wasn’t fully backing him in each impossible choice. 

_I should have given you more credit, love._ Randi had never been that petty. 

_:Thank you, Randi:_ Melody sent, once the silence had lasted awhile. _:Shavri, do you want to answer?:_

There wasn’t much to say. Not in words, anyway – only in the wordless song that was their bond. _:I feel lighter:_ she sent. _:I’m glad you see it. That I’m trying to do right by you, and Van, and by the Kingdom, and it is hard, but I think it’s important:_ She nodded at Melody, and then let herself lean into Randi’s shoulder. 

_:Thank you:_ Melody sent. _:Randi, did you have more to say?:_

Randi lifted his head. _:I notice I still feel...tense, or squirmy, or something, when I say Van’s name. And...it’s scary to talk about, when I don’t have all my thoughts in order yet. I think it feels like I’m supposed to have it all tidy and in order. Because I’m the King, and people are going to take what I say more seriously. But maybe it’s important for me to say it anyway:_ He shifted closer to Shavri.

_:That makes sense:_ Melody sent. _:Randi, we know that you’re human. You’re allowed to have messy feelings:_

_:I know:_ A wash of gratitude. Then Randi turned to look at Vanyel. _:I feel scared of hurting you, Vanyel, but I know – I have a story – that you wouldn’t want me to hide anything because of that:_

Vanyel nodded but said nothing, staring at somewhere in the vicinity of Randi’s chin. He was afraid, but he held himself open to it. _He thinks he deserves it –_ and she wanted to fling her arms around him and shout in his ear until he believed her that he didn’t. 

Which he knew already, because she wasn’t shielding either. She was an open book to him. To all of them. It was terrifying, but oddly, mostly it was a relief. 

_:I feel unsteady:_ Randi sent. _:Like something I thought was solid just collapsed, and now there’s a chasm and I’m trying to balance on a tiny bridge, if that makes any sense. And I’m angry, but mostly I’m scared:_

Shavri could feel how every muscle in Randi’s body tensed, as though preparing for a blow, but his shields didn’t even flicker to life. _How are you so brave, love?_

_:Van:_ Randi sent. _:I have a story that I trusted you. That you were – what’s that phrase you’ve used – a load-bearing wall for me. I thought so highly of your judgement, your insights, I’ve been grateful so many times for your advice – I would have been a much worse King, without you, and that’s not even mentioning that you won the war for us. Valdemar owes you so much. I know you aren’t perfect, it would be unrealistic of me to expect you to never make mistakes, but I thought I could always trust your integrity. Even Sunhame didn’t really change that. Until now...it feels like this changes everything. It’s not just that you lied to me. That hurts, a lot, but I can forgive you for it – I mean, Taver ordered you to. But...there’s so much that I thought was just you being you, and I’m learning how much of it came from Leareth, and I guess it feels like I have to re-evaluate everything now. I can believe as much as I want that you were trying to do the right thing, and it would still be irresponsible of me to take your advice at face value, now. It feels like I’ve lost you:_

There was no anger in his mindvoice, and only a hint of bitterness – and Shavri wondered if that wasn’t worse for Vanyel, to have that condemnation levelled at him so calmly. He was still open, naked to every word. 

_:It feels so lonely:_ Randi sent. _:Gods, it feels awful of me to say that to you, I can only imagine what the last week has been like on your end. Still. Van, you’re the person I would have trusted most to help me figure this out, and now I can’t. I’m not angry, anymore, I believe you were doing your best, but I do feel betrayed. I guess it feels like I was counting on you, to fight Leareth, and now you’ve abandoned me to deal with this goddamned mess on my own:_

Vanyel was weeping silently now, and this time Shavri did reach for him, resting her hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch. 

_:Thank you, Randi:_ Melody sent. _:Vanyel, do you…?:_

_:Yes:_ His mindvoice was clear, despite the tears glistening on his cheeks under the soft mage-light. _:I feel – gods, it hurts so much. Randi, you said it felt like you lost me, and…it just hurts. But I’m grateful you said it. It feels...not better, it feels awful, but less strained, somehow. It was worse not knowing:_ He gulped in a breath. _:I notice I feel stuck, or something, and like I’m tasting something bitter. I think because I want to defend my choices, and I can’t here without talking about arguments and that breaks the rules. But...I swear, on everything that matters, that I care about Valdemar’s future. I don’t know if you can believe me, and...I mean, it’s a fair point, that the way I think is different enough now, I might not mean the same thing you mean by that. I understand, and...I’m even glad, a bit, that you’re really trying to figure it out. I needed someone checking my reasoning. That’s the only good thing that’s come out of this goddamned mess:_

He curled into himself, shoulders shaking. _:I hated keeping it secret from you. Never wanted to. I thought – I was trying – I know nothing excuses it. I’m sorry to put this on you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t who you thought:_

So many echoes, in the space that was their shared thoughts and feelings and overlapping auras. Savil’s guilt was particularly obvious. 

_:It sounds to me like you are defending your choices:_ Tran sent, and there was an edge in his mindvoice. 

_Oof._ Shavri flinched back. Melody was blinking, clearly at a loss. 

_:I would say a thing:_ Moondance sent, calmly. _:Vanyel, Wingbrother – it seems important to you, for us to hear and understand that you are still on our side. You say you wish to defend yourself, and cannot – I have a story that this defensiveness is creeping in, here, and are wishing for a certain outcome from these words. I am curious if this is right, and what lies under your desire to defend yourself, now in this moment:_

Silence. 

_:I don’t–:_ Vanyel stopped, cupping both hands over his face. _:Feels like I’m falling. Like the ground is gone and there’s nothing… I’m terrified. For our future, and...I guess I’m afraid of being alone in this. Of everyone leaving. I can’t – just – it’s too hard, I can’t even think about it–:_

_:Vanyel, hey:_ Melody’s mindvoice interjected. _:Take a minute, all right? Breathe. Center and ground:_

Moments passed in silence. Shavri hesitated, and then turned towards Vanyel, a wordless offer. Felt the assent in his surface thoughts, and she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. 

_It’s all right,_ she wanted to say, but it wasn’t. Not really. Of course he was afraid. This wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought that Van wouldn’t last long completely on his own. 

_:I think I need a break:_ Vanyel sent finally, shakily, and raised his shields, dropping out of the meld. He stirred in her arms, and Shavri quickly let go. 

_:That’s all right:_ Melody sent. _:Take however long you need. Moondance, can you…?:_

Moondance nodded, and Shavri felt the shift as he slipped out of rapport with Starwind. 

_:Let’s all take a minute:_ Melody sent. _:Anchor yourselves:_

It was good advice. The familiar motion, center-and-ground, steadied her. _Remind yourself what’s yours and what belongs to other people_ , Melody had said. Shavri had forgotten, a little – it hadn’t felt bad, exactly, but it had definitely been overwhelming. 

_:Very good:_ Melody sent. _:Does anyone – Savil?:_

The older Herald-Mage slid forward a few inches on her cushion. _:I notice I feel tight in my stomach when I look at Van – I guess I’m worried about what this is like for him. But...I’m also relieved, I think. I want to – I appreciate everyone who’s said things, I definitely wasn’t brave enough to go first, and I’m especially grateful to Van for being here. But I feel… I don’t know:_ She pressed a hand to her chest. _:There’s a pain, here:_ She fell silent. 

_:Try giving the feeling a name:_ Melody coaxed. _:You can try a few different words, until you get one that feels right:_

Savil nodded. Closed her eyes. _:Mostly sad, I think. Sort of weary. Hopeless? Yes, that’s close to it. It feels like we’ve lost something, like something was broken, and I don’t – I have a story that it wasn’t inevitable, it doesn’t have to be like this. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but I wish there was a way for us to ask the right questions here without turning our backs on Vanyel:_ Something clenched in her face. _:He’s one of us. He’s done so much… I want to say he’s earned some faith. He needs us, and I think we need him as well. If we just stop trusting him as a person, because of this...then, I don’t know, some part of me says that we lose:_

Shavri shivered. Something lost, something broken… It had been such a nebulous knot of confusion, in her mind, but it felt a little clearer now. She thought Randi saw it as well, or saw something – she felt the flash of recognition resonate across their bond. 

Savil shrugged, helplessly. _:Maybe it’s too late. We can’t go back to the way things were – but I want to say that we can still go forward, and maybe we can find a way to make it right, if we try. I don’t want us to just give up on Van:_

Her words seemed to echo in the strange space that was the Work Room, and the mixture of resignation and despair and tentative hope drew out eddies. _I don’t want to give up on him either,_ Shavri thought, half pleading – a breath of silent prayer to nothing and no one, because she didn’t believe any god was listening. 

Of course Savil was suffering. Shavri hadn’t dwelled on it much, there was so much else to worry about, but of course she had to feel desperately torn, her loyalty to her nephew in tension with the oath she had sworn to Valdemar. She was dealing with her own betrayal and hurt and confusion, Shavri knew it was hard for her to even think about Leareth – and she was still here. Still looking out for Vanyel. 

Melody stepped in. _:Thank you, Savil. Randi? You want to add something?:_

_:Yes:_ Randi’s mindvoice was brisk, holding the most certainty that Shavri had heard from him in days. _:Savil, I’m glad you put it that way. I have no intention of giving up on Vanyel. I don’t know what that means, yet, I have no idea how it would even look to start to put this right – but I intend to try:_

* * *

Randi shifted his position, trying to ease the cramp in his thigh. The pain was there, in the distance, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected, despite going into this without any painkillers at all. He had wanted his mind to be clear.

Vanyel had just rejoined, dropping his shields again – Randi had felt it, and even felt the shift as Moondance lowered his own shields and slipped back into rapport with Starwind. He wasn’t sure if he was picking up bits and pieces of Shavri’s Sight; the world looked different, there were currents and patterns dancing in the edges of his vision that he couldn’t quite capture. The corners of the room seemed to be melting, probably thanks to Melody’s Gift. Randi had seen her a few times as a patient, at Shavri’s insistence, and recognized the feeling. 

It was going well. Oh, there had been plenty of words exchanged that made him wince, but somehow it felt like there was room for it, here. He had also expected it to be a lot more tiring to participate in a full Mindspeech conversation for candlemarks, but he didn’t feel strained at all. He had a suspicion that he was somehow piggybacking on Shavri’s much stronger Gift. 

Vanyel dragged his sleeve across his face, and turned back to the room, not quite looking at anyone in particular. Moondance’s brilliant blue eyes moved from one face to the next. 

_:Melody:_ the Hawkbrother sent into the meld, undirected Mindspeech that seemed to bounce and resonate from every surface. _:May I suggest a thing?:_

_:Please go ahead:_ There was the barest hint of defensiveness in the overtones, but warmth as well, and even with shields down, Melody didn’t leak much. 

_:Herald Tantras has not spoken:_ And Moondance turned to face the man, almost directly across the circle. _:Tantras, I look at you and I imagine you feel like an outsider in this circle, and perhaps do not feel seen by us yet. I am curious if that is right. Would you speak of your experience?:_

Randi felt his spine tense. _Damn it, I wish you’d left it alone._ He had noticed Tran’s aloofness throughout the whole discussion, the occasional bursts of frustration that echoed out into the room, and he hadn’t found it surprising at all. 

It did seem fair for Tran to have his turn as well, though – that was the whole point of this damned thing. 

Tran squirmed. _:I can try. I don’t–:_

_:Anchor in your body:_ Melody reminded him gently. _:Here and now:_

The Herald took a deep breath, and deliberately unfolding his arms, resting his hands on his knees. _:All right. I...notice I feel tight, in my chest. And like I’m watching from a distance. I’m…oh. I’m not angry. Thought I’d be, but mostly I just feel tired:_

Melody nodded. _:What’s the tiredness like? What do you think it’s trying to say to you?:_

A fresh wave of irritation, but Tran let it slide. _:I keep being annoyed that this is so touchy-feely, but...it’s not really about that. It’s more, I don’t know, I can’t find the right words for it, just – I’m really worried. About where we go from here, our future. I guess it feels bad to me, it feels wrong, that we’re basically here trying to be less angry with Vanyel:_

Randi reached instinctively for Shavri’s hand, and he felt the eddies of reaction from the others, but Melody was unperturbed, nothing but curiosity drifting from her. _:Hmm. You feel like something is going wrong here?:_

Tran nodded, jaw working. 

_:Can you try to say more words about what the wrongness is?:_

_:I can try:_ Tran uncrossed and re-crossed his legs. Tugged at his sleeve. _:Just… I think we have to be objective. And it feels to me like it’s not realistic that we could do that and still feel warm towards Van as a person. I mean, gods, I want to – I know what he’s been through. And what he’s done for Valdemar. Just, I’m scared about letting that seep into our view of him, right now:_

A burst of anguish from Vanyel, that washed over all of them. Randi felt a brief, desperate urge to pick him up and drag him out of the room. Surely this was exactly what he didn’t need to hear, right now–

Melody lowered the teacup from her lips. She must have single-handedly finished half the pot already; no one else was drinking it. _:Tran, what I’m hearing is that there’s something here you care about, you fear is going wrong, and you have a story that feeling warm towards Vanyel is incompatible with protecting it. Is that right?:_ Tran nodded. _:You haven’t quite said it explicitly:_ she added. _:Can you describe what it is, that you care about here?:_

_:May I pause here a moment?:_ Moondance sent. _:I would like to hear more from Tran, also, but before that – Vanyel, I notice you reacting strongly. I would be curious to hear you say what you are feeling:_

Vanyel lifted his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes; his hand was trembling, and there were fresh tears on his cheeks. 

_:Take your time:_ Melody prompted him. _:Center and ground, remember to anchor in your body:_

Vanyel nodded. _:I feel a sort of weight on my chest. It’s hard to breathe. It really hurts to hear that, to think about it… I guess I’m afraid. Of being shut out. That I deserve it…:_ He closed his eyes, face clenching.

_:You fear that we will close you out:_ Moondance echoed, _:and that we would be right to do so. I imagine it is a painful thing to consider. Would you hold it, and allow us to stay with you in it?:_

Randi could feel the weight of attention in the room, resting on Vanyel, silently bearing witness. 

_:I’m scared Tran is right:_ Vanyel sent finally. _:That the best path for Valdemar involves me losing everything:_ There was pain in his mindvoice, but, oddly, he seemed calmer. 

Moondance nodded, acknowledging the words. _:That does sound very frightening. How does it feel now, to have shared those words?:_

_:I still feel scared:_ Vanyel’s eyes were fixed on Moondance. _:Still feels awful. But...I guess I’m relieved as well, now that I’m not trying to keep it all stuffed in my head:_

Silence, but it felt more respectful than strained. 

_:Thank you, Wingbrother:_ Moondance sent finally. He turned his eyes to Melody. 

She blinked. _:Right. Coming back – Tran, I still would like to hear you talk more about what it is that you’re standing for, here:_

A wash of frustration. _:You really have to ask?:_

Melody seemed unbothered by it. _:I find naming the obvious things helpful, for making sure we’re actually on the same page:_

_:I guess so:_ Tran frowned. _:Well. I want us not to lose the war with Leareth:_ He paused for a long time, fidgeting with the edge of a blanket next to him; Melody waited. _:I want to say that there should be a bright line that we don’t ever cross:_ he went on, finally. _:That it means something, to be a Herald – and if we were looking in on this from the outside, if Van were a stranger and not a friend, I think we would all agree he crossed that line years ago:_

Randi could almost feel Vanyel’s flinch in his own body. 

_:One moment:_ Moondance sent. _:Tran, I would like to point out that this is a story you have, whether or not it is true. I notice that Vanyel flinched when you shared this story, and I feel care for him. I wish to say, there is a pattern I have seen, where statements about how the world is do not leave as much space for others to experience what they are feeling. If you are willing, I would invite you to focus for a moment on how you are feeling, here and now, and not the story of why:_

Tran had bristled at ‘whether or not it is true’, but he nodded now. _:I’m cold. I think I feel scared, that we aren’t doing right by Valdemar, and...it feels lonely. It seems to me like no one else feels the way I do. I don’t want to be the bad guy here, but…someone has to fight for it, and no one else is. I think there are some views, some people, that it’s not safe to negotiate with:_

The worst part, Randi thought, was how calm he was. Tran genuinely didn’t seem angry, and even frustration was a distant afternote – mostly he felt tired, and sad, a heaviness in the overtones behind every word. The fear was there as well, drawing out echoes, tugging at the sick terror that lurked in the back of his own mind. He felt a flicker of guilt. _I’m sorry, Tran. I didn’t realize you felt so alone._

Vanyel was hunched into himself, hair hiding his face, but he was still unshielded – there was something almost transparent to him, like staring through a glass windowpane into wintry darkness… 

_I wish you didn’t have to hear this, Van._ And yet, somehow it mattered that he had. There was a significance in all of them hearing it, reaction and counter-reaction sloshing around.

It felt like he finally understood what Moondance was trying to do, though he couldn’t put it into words. 

_:Thank you, Tran:_ Melody sent. _:What I hear is that you're standing for a value that's important to you, about what it means to be a Herald. I'm wondering who else here is willing to speak of how they see it – of what being a Herald means to them:_

Randi closed his eyes. He knew he ought to offer an answer, but for some reason it hurt even to think about. 

_:Savil?:_ Melody suggested. 

_:I noticed I felt a sort of echo, when Tran said that:_ the older Herald-Mage sent. _:I think there’s something… Gods, it’s hard to talk about it words. There’s a sacred trust that we carry. I made a vow to Randi, that I would seek the truth in every thought and deed, that I would build and preserve our land and people… I guess that’s it. It’s all just about people, in the end, and keeping this damned kingdom safe for them. We’re only human, and it’s a confusing world, we’re trying our best to find our way… I don’t think we know what the right path is here, yet. And I still think Van is trying as hard as any of us, to find it:_

_:Thank you, Savil:_ Melody sent. 

Randi found he was gritting his teeth, and forced his jaw to relax.

_:Dara?:_ Melody sent. _:Go ahead:_

Randi glanced over at the young woman. She hadn’t spoken at all yet, but her eyes were bright, watching everything. 

_:I probably don’t get all of it yet:_ she sent. _:Since I’m still a trainee. But...to me, being a Herald means being part of this incredible group, that’s all working towards the same goal. I think it really, really matters, that we can count on each other. Because we’re trying to do this impossible thing, and the only way anyone can bear that weight is if we can spread it out:_ She shook her head. _:I don’t know if I’m saying it right. The sacred trust, in the Heralds’ Creed… I never felt like that was about some kind of outside thing, a guideline that always has the right answer – I’m not sure that exists. I think all we have is our best judgement, and each other:_

Randi blinked. From the mouths of babes…

Oddly, it felt like something in him had loosened, and he found himself leaning forward. 

_:Thank you, Dara:_ Melody sent. _:Randi?:_

He breathed in and out. _:I notice I’m feeling warm and grateful to Tran, for bringing this point up. It feels important. I don’t think it’s going to mean exactly the same thing to everyone, being a Herald, because our minds work differently. But I do think there’s a core that we share. We were all Chosen by our Companions because we care about doing the right thing. No matter where that leads us. I think Savil’s right – it’s hard, and confusing, and we’re only human. Sometimes we fail. But...I think in the end, what it means to be a Herald is that when that happens, we don’t just give up. On the world, or on each other:_

He took a deep breath. _:I don’t actually know what that implies for our current situation. Maybe there is a point at which it doesn’t matter that Vanyel is one of us – if his thinking is alien enough, and we can’t pick out which pieces are coming from Leareth. But he is still a Herald:_ He couldn’t help glancing over at Vanyel, who was still curled up against Moondance. _:I imagine he still feels that he can’t walk away:_

Silence. 

_:Thank you:_ Melody sent. _:Tran, I’m curious how it felt for you, sharing what you did, and hearing the others’ responses:_

A shiver of something that was almost surprise. _:I feel...less tangled up. Like something is clearer. I think I feel less alone, somehow. At least less like people think I’m crazy:_ He pulled his knees into his chest. _:Feels like people heard the point I’m trying to make, even if they don’t necessarily agree. I think someone had to say it, even if it hurts:_

...Reverberations of, not quite agreement, but quiet acknowledgement. Even from Vanyel. 

_:Thank you:_ Melody sent. _:Does anyone want to respond?:_

Silence. 

Finally, Vanyel moved forward – not with his body, he was still huddled up against the wall as though trying to make himself invisible, but something in him reached out. 

_:Vanyel, go ahead:_ Melody sent. _:Take a moment to center and ground, all right?:_

Vanyel nodded, his breathing deepening. _:All right. I’m feeling...a lot of things, it’s kind of hard to tell. Easy to get lost in it, feels like I’m drowning… But it helped, hearing everyone talk about being Heralds. What all of this is for. I’m trying to hold onto that… Savil, thank you. For still being here. For helping me find the right path. And, Dara, it resonated, when you said there isn’t a guideline that’s always right, and we only have our best judgement:_ He lifted his head. _:For me… There’s a world, out there, it’s full of people, living their lives. Suffering and dying. All of the people matter, everyone’s a light in the world – not just the people who happen to live Valdemar, even if it makes sense to mostly focus on what’s closer to us. It’s not about duty or virtue, but maybe those are concepts that make us stronger. That make it easier for a group of people to trust each other and work together. Dara’s right, I think, we need that. It’s too hard for anyone to do alone. I should know that by now:_ He took an uneven breath, and sat up straighter. _:Randi – you’re right. I can’t walk away. Not now, not ever. It’s not about having made a vow, it’s only that the problems in the world aren’t fixed yet. I can’t ever turn my back on that, and–:_ A wash of pain. _:I guess that’s why it hurts so much to hear Tran say that maybe I’ve crossed a line and I should be on the outside now. Because I can’t do this on my own, but I can’t just stop. Feels like being trapped between two cliffs:_

It was awful; it was one of the hardest things Randi had ever done, watching in silence. The agony in Vanyel’s mindvoice, that he didn’t quite put into words, because it was clear he didn’t feel that he had the right to ask for anything different. _He thinks he deserves it._

Moondance stretched out his arms, and Vanyel leaned into his chest, sobbing. 

There were tears in Randi’s eyes as well. He didn’t want to speak, at all, but it felt important. _I have to._ He leaned forward, waiting. 

_:Thank you, Vanyel:_ Melody said; there was sympathy in her mindvoice, Van’s words had clearly touched her, but she was otherwise unruffled. _:Randi?:_

He found himself gritting his teeth, and forced his jaw to relax, rolling his neck from side to side. _:I’m noticing that my chest hurts. I think I feel guilty. Tran, it sounds like you’re feeling alone, and maybe you feel like I’m letting you down. Like I can’t do my job properly, because I care too much about Vanyel. I won’t deny that I do, and I’m not ready to stop thinking of him as a person – as one of us:_

He paused, centering and grounding, trying to anchor in his body. It was tempting to bring up his shields, the backwash of reactions all around him was overwhelming – Shavri in particular, she hated conflict and every part of her wanted to flee from this – but she was still there. If she could be brave enough for this, so could he.

And Vanyel. Randi couldn’t begin to imagine how hard this was for him, but he was still holding his shields down. 

_:It is difficult to navigate:_ he sent. _:Trying to be dispassionate when it concerns one of my best friends. I have to try, though, because...I don’t know, I think the alternative means we lose something important as well. But...Tran, I respect what you’re trying to fight for. Really and truly. I’m grateful that you have my back:_

You couldn’t lie in Mindspeech, and he was telling the truth. He knew Tran would pick up on all the rest, of course, all his weariness and frustration and resentment. Tran had made himself awfully obnoxious more than once in the last week, but he was still trying to do the right thing.

_:Thank you, Randi:_ Melody glanced around. _:Oh. Dara, did you want to say something?:_

_:Yes:_ The girl’s mindvoice was small, tentative, but there was determination there as well. Despite her earlier words, Randi had almost forgotten she was there – like Melody, even fully unshielded and open she took up surprisingly little space. Self-contained. _:I’m noticing I feel warm:_ she went on, a little more firmly, _:and sort of light? Like my head is going to float right off. It’s weird but it’s not bad? I don’t know, I guess this is all pretty confusing and new for me, and I keep feeling like maybe I don’t really belong, but I remember you invited me to be here. I’m grateful for that, I guess. It’s a good thing, to be here, even though a lot of it is really scary and upsetting – it’s important, and I feel...honoured? That you’re letting me see it. There were so many pieces and I was trying to fit them in my head and none of it made sense, and it still feels like that but less?:_

She hesitated, licking her lips. _:I just wanted to say, Tran, that I think it was brave, what you said. I’m imagining it must be so hard, because I know – I mean, I feel like I’m seeing, or I’m imagining, that you really care about Vanyel as well. And you’re trying to do the right thing anyway, you’re standing up for what you believe, and – and so is everyone else here, even though we don’t agree on what that means yet and it’s confusing. I think about that and I feel...bright inside? Hopeful. Because we’re all Heralds, we’re not going to just give up:_ Dara blinked hard, eyes shimmering. _:I feel so warm and proud thinking that. That I get to be here, to have a chance to help, and – I don’t know, I just want to give all of you a hug. But especially Tran:_

Randi was blinking away fresh tears of his own. It felt like it shouldn’t have surprised him – like maybe it meant he hadn’t been seeing her at all the whole time. _How are you so much kinder than me?_

_:Thank you, Dara:_ Melody sent. _:Tran, do you want to respond?:_

Tran swiped at his eyes, irritably, and re-settled his position on the cushion. _:Dara, I don’t, just – thank you. Seems like you get it, and...that helps:_ He blinked hard. _:Damn it, Melody, can you stop…?:_

_:Tran, it’s fine to cry:_ Melody ducked her head, though, and Randi wondered if she was trying to aim less of her Gift at Tran in particular. 

Dara started to reach for Tran’s shoulder and then stopped, hand in midair. Tran took a ragged breath, and then leaned towards her, and she sighed and slipped her arm around his shoulders. 

Silence fell, but not stillness. Reaction and counter-reaction rippled about the room. 

_:Might I say a thing?:_ Moondance sent. 

_:Of course:_ Melody nodded to him, and settled back against the rug-draped wall.

The Healing-Adept’s eyes played about the room, and Randi almost felt the weight of his attention when it settled on him, before moving on to Dara. _Like he’s seeing right through my skin._

_:I imagine you feel there is a conflict here:_ Moondance sent, slowly, each word seeming to drift and land in the swirling openness of the space between them. _:Two viewpoints, that cannot both hold, and so they are in tension. What I would like to say, is that we are not here to resolve which is true, nor to reach a conclusion where one dominates. It is all right for there to be disagreement. I wish simply for there to be a space big enough that all of us might see around those differences, that lay walls between us – that we see clearly, and recognize one another as people. Each of us has a whole world inside us, no?:_

He paused, waiting for the echoes to settle. 

_:Tantras:_ he went on. _:I imagine you are thinking that it is dangerous to fully see the humanness in Vanyel – because it would draw out an echo in yourself, you might feel warmth and caring, and you fear that is in tension with the value you hold on what I might call a purity in Heralds, your bright line that is not to be crossed. And so you retreat from his world into your own. I wish you to see that there is space, here, for both of those worlds. That you might recognize Vanyel as who he is, without needing to sacrifice your own world and the ideals you stand for. If there is strain, between your world and his – I would still like that we could look upon that friction with curiosity. We need not fall to one side or another, yet:_

There was an obscure pang in Randi’s chest. A sense of pressure released and draining away. There was something he had been trying to grasp at, but he hadn’t been able to find the words, and then Moondance had named it clearer than he could have imagined. 

_It’s my job, to see both._ It was hardly the first time he had faced disagreement amongst the Senior Circle, though nothing so momentous before. His role was to hear all the sides, hold them up in his mind for comparison – and it was often tempting, like Moondance said, to fall onto one side or another, especially when his own opinion was clear. 

It was a lesson Darvi had tried to teach – to his surprise, tears blossomed in his eyes, thinking of his father, the pain was a distant ache but usually not so close to the surface. _You’re just another man,_ Darvi had said, _but you bear the mantle to speak and decide for everyone, not just yourself. It’s not possible for anyone to carry that alone. The views of others are a precious resource you can draw on, and you need to remember to be open to that; sometimes that will be hard, but those are the times when it’s most important._

_:I tell a story to myself that perhaps there is pain between you:_ Moondance added, _:older than this crisis, there is anger and hurt and betrayal that has worn grooves in your thoughts. There is a tension there, not between you and Vanyel, but within your own mind:_ A shrug. _:Perhaps I am wrong, and you need not speak of it – all I say is that your mind is big enough to hold that as well, and it need not stand in the way of seeing Vanyel as he is now:_

Silence. Tran didn’t answer, but his eyes were fixed on Moondance, bright and glittering. His cheeks were flushed, and something like heat radiated from him. 

_:Vanyel:_ Moondance went on, turning to face him. _:You are here, listening, but I notice that with your body, you try to make yourself small. I imagine you do not expect to be heard in turn – there is a story in my mind, that part of you thinks you have lost the right for your personhood to matter. I wish you to remember that you are still human – and that means you might be wrong, but I think you see that already. I worry perhaps that you fail to see that your world carries the same weight as any of ours, and you are allowed to have a voice as well:_

Vanyel didn’t move for a long moment, but finally he lifted his head, shaking his hair out of his face. _:I notice I feel...exposed. It’s hard to breathe, my chest hurts:_ He took an unsteady breath. _:I’m scared to say this, but – the thing I’m telling myself is that all of you found out half the story, and jumped to conclusions. Assumed I had made a terrible mistake. And, maybe I did, but… I wish you’d had more faith in me. I was trying so hard, and it was complicated and I didn’t know the right answer. I can see why it would look awful, from the outside, and I think it’s right that you should be able to see that, but I still wish you would just acknowledge I was trying to do the right thing. I’m still trying. I wouldn’t ever betray the Kingdom on purpose. I know I don’t have the right to be angry, but...it hurts, feeling like you don’t see that:_

He was weeping again, and he pulled away from Shavri’s touch when she reached for him. Randi wanted to reach out as well, and stopped himself, but it ached, feeling the loneliness that poured from him. _You’re not alone_ , he wanted to say – to shout it, scream it, until Vanyel believed him. 

_:Thank you, Vanyel:_ Melody sent. A pause. _:Are you all right? You seem pretty overwhelmed–:_

_:Sorry:_ Vanyel slowly unfolded himself and sat up, shaking his hair out of his face; he looked very pale, beads of sweat on his forehead. _:I think I’m going to be sick:_

_:Breathe through it. It’s just nerves:_ Melody’s mindvoice was very calm, maybe slightly concerned. _:Do you need a break?:_

_:Need air. I can’t breathe…:_

_:Hmm. Moondance, can you take Van outside for a bit?:_ A pause. _:Don’t forget shields:_

Starwind blinked, almost groggily, as his partner untangled himself and reached for Vanyel’s arm _. :Brother, come with me:_ Moondance sent, gently pulling him to his feet. Vanyel swayed, stumbling, and Moondance steadied him. 

The door opened, a waft of cooler air from the hallway raising goosebumps on Randi’s skin. He had half-forgotten it was winter outside; the room was so cozy. 

_:Everyone take a minute, I think:_ Melody sent, setting down her teacup and lifting both hands to her temples.

* * *

The air was icy on Vanyel’s face and neck, chilling the sweat that drenched him. An endless blue sky above, sunlight spearing his eyes. _I forgot there was an outside._

And his first act of freedom had been to lose his breakfast in a snowbank that certainly hadn’t deserved that fate. 

_:Chosen, I’m here:_ Yfandes sent. _:It’s all right:_

_:Just give me a minute, ‘Fandes:_ He had reached for her the instant he crossed outside the room-shields – it was an incredible relief, to feel her light in his mind again – but the inside of his head felt tender, and her mindvoice was too loud. 

“Brother?” Moondance said, concerned.

“Think I’m done.” He spat again, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and then straightened up – and staggered, reeling, before Moondance caught him. “Gah. I told you it was a bad idea to eat this morning.”

“Are you ill?” 

Vanyel shook his head. “Melody’s right, it’s just nerves.” Stress always made his stomach uneasy, and he had been queasy the entire time. 

“Better now?” 

“A lot better. Sorry about that.” It had been such a relief to slip under Moondance’s shields, and out into a world that didn’t feel so claustrophobic with the weight of everyone else’s emotions. He was quite lightheaded now, but not in an unpleasant way. _I might float away._ He laughed. “Poor snowbank.” 

“I do not think that the snow minds.” 

“The Palace gardeners might in spring.” He laughed again, almost a giggle. He felt very odd. Like he was drunk, a little, but different. “Look at the sky.”

“What about the sky?” 

“There’s so _much_ of it. Surely there doesn’t need to be that much sky.” The blue looked more vivid than he remembered, and seemed to shimmer. 

Moondance chuckled as well. “You are right. I wonder if it was always that way, and we never looked?”

“Probably.” He leaned to the side, bumping into Moondance’s shoulder. “I’m thirsty.” And his mouth tasted awful. “Going to eat some snow. Want any?” 

Moondance held him steady as he bent to dig in the piled snow; he would have fallen without it, his knees seemed to be very wobbly.

“Oof, that’s cold.” He looked at the ball of snow in his hands, trying to remember what he’d been planning to do with it – and then, seized by inspiration, he lunged to stuff it down the back of Moondance’s robes. 

“Van!” Moondance yelped, dodging, laughing at the same time. Vanyel started laughing as well, and then lost his balance. The Healing-Adept caught him again, with two hands under his arms; Vanyel could feel the heat of his palms through his clothing, which wasn’t anywhere near warm enough for the weather. Moondance’s face was very close to Vanyel’s, flushed a little with the cold, blue eyes sparkling, and his hair almost glowed in the sunlight, matching the snow around them. 

Vanyel wasn’t, actually, sure which of them moved in to kiss the other. Maybe it was him, but it hadn’t felt like a decision. Moondance’s lips were hot, a sharp accent against the cold air–

Moondance pulled back. “Enough. I think we had better go inside,” he said. “Vanyel, are you sure you are well?” 

The serious tone of his voice calmed some of the giddiness. _I can’t believe I just did that._ “I don’t know… I feel weird.” He swayed. _:’Fandes, is something wrong with me?:_

She swirled into his mind again. _:Oh. I see. No, I think you’re fine – just a little too much Mindhealing at once:_

“I think it is the effect of your friend Melody’s Gift,” Moondance agreed. “It is somewhat like a drug. I feel it also, but less.” 

“Well, I think she was throwing a lot more of it at me in particular.” Like snowballs – and he started laughing again. 

“Come,” Moondance urged. “Inside. I have an illusion so that no one may see us, but I did not think to block sound also.” 

Oops. Vanyel tried to clamp down on the giggles. _I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before._

“Perhaps it is not only her Gift,” Moondance said, trying to guide Vanyel around a corner. “A weight was lifted from you.”

He did feel very light. And probably by tomorrow he would be embarrassed, at how many times he had burst into tears with everyone watching, but it didn’t seem to matter now. 

“I know what I asked was hard,” Moondance said. “I am glad you were able to speak of it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So, yeah, that's a thing that happened. (Author's note: I don't agree with all the choices made by characters in this fic, and I'm not sure that this is how they should have approached the problem, though I don't think it was the *worst* idea they could have tried.)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“Hey,” Stef hissed. “Move over?” 

“Shh.” Jisa held a finger to her lips and then, very carefully, wiggled sideways, opening a space for Stef. He stifled a sigh of relief as he settled into a more comfortable position – hunched over, his back had been starting to hurt. 

For once, he was glad to be small and thin. There was no way in the world that Medren would have fit in the narrow ventilation-space they had scoped out. 

He didn’t think they had to be quite so quiet, not now that they’d heard the heavy oak door close. There was nearly a foot of solid stone in the way, after all. They had heard a few snippets of conversation through it, but muffled enough that he hadn’t caught any words. It wasn’t just stone – it was shielded, magically. Stef wasn’t mage-gifted, and neither was Jisa, but everyone knew about the central Palace Work Room. And Jisa had known a few facts about it that had come as a surprise to Stef. 

It was incredibly, thoroughly shielded against mage-energies, the work of centuries, and it was incidentally shielded against Thoughtsensing and Empathy as well. Jisa wasn’t sure whether or not it was shielded against Farsight or Fetching, but probably it was – apparently all the meeting-rooms were – and of course even if it wasn’t it wouldn’t help either of them. 

It wasn’t fully shielded against Bardic, because the technique for that type of shield was new – he hadn’t known this either, but Herald Vanyel had invented it. _How is he so powerful, handsome, AND clever?_ It didn’t seem fair. As usual, thinking about Vanyel gave him a quivery feeling in his stomach. 

And, it so happened, it wasn’t fully shielded against Mindhealing Sight either. Stef hadn’t even known that was a different thing from Thoughtsensing until now. 

Jisa scrunched up her face. “Ugh,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s like trying to look through a piece of silk. Giving me a headache!” 

“Tell me about it.” Stef squeezed his eyes shut…and opened the door in his head. 

Everyone knew that the Bardic Gift didn’t come with true Sight, although there were a few Bards who were also Thoughtsensers or Receptive Empaths. Except that it had never quite seemed right to Stef, because he was neither a Thoughtsenser nor an Empath, but he did know how someone was receiving his songs, and not just because he was good at reading faces. He felt it even when had his eyes closed and was lost in the music, not paying any real attention at all. 

He couldn’t perform properly through a stone wall, of course, but he didn’t actually want to be heard at all.

Take a breath, and hum a single note… 

He didn’t need to put in a lot of power, or any interesting emotions. All he had to do was nudge just enough that, whatever the strange sensitivity that came with his Bardic Gift was, it would have something to pick up on. 

It wasn’t much like seeing. Or like any sense, really. It was all happening below the surface, and the only thing he was aware of was the tug of the music. This time it felt murkier than usual, less sure, but it seemed that he wanted to soothe. To reach for lullabies, songs of peace and plenty. That song about the tired general, after the war, going home to play with his grandchildren…

Stop. He clamped down on the note just before his Gift involuntarily reached out. If the people in that room weren’t calm, they might notice an outside push in that direction. 

Jisa was right – it was challenging, he could practically feel the resistance of the shields. 

Well, there was something else he could try. Reach for the other door in his head, the one he so rarely opened. With a sigh, Stef let it drift open. 

He wasn’t a Receptive Empath, and he didn’t feel the pain of others. Thank the gods for that, it sounded dreadful. It wasn’t really that he saw it, either; it was the same as with the music. He just knew, and he could soothe it away into song. 

Stef hadn’t tested this strange Gift much. Not since he had realized, slowly, that it was something no one else had ever heard of before. He couldn’t predict how anyone would react, not even Breda, not even Medren, and it had seemed simpler to keep it to himself; Stef didn’t like the unpredictable. Besides, it was something to hold in reserve – someday, if he was in enough trouble, he could pull it out and it might make it worth their while to let him stay at Bardic. Not that Stef thought that was ever likely to happen, exactly, but…well. Contingency plans. 

It was easiest by far to detect, and ease, physical pain – but he could sense the edges of purely emotional pain as well. 

Of which there was a great deal in the stone room. 

“Jisa?” he hissed. “What are you…?” 

“Shh. I’m trying to focus.” 

Stef frowned. Closed his eyes, and hummed another note. 

–Oh. He hadn’t realized that he knew how many people were there – no, he still couldn’t have given a number – but somehow he did know there were more. And there was something different. A feeling of recognition…

“Vanyel,” he breathed. 

“I know,” Jisa whispered back. “He’s pretty obvious – wait, how do you know? I thought you couldn’t–”

“Not sure.” 

He wished they knew _why_ a number of Heralds had scheduled the communal Work Room for the morning. Jisa had climbed up the drainpipe again this morning, just before dawn, waking him, and said that her mother had been up very early with Melody, and she had overheard a few fragments of conversation in Mindspeech and thought something very important was happening – but no one would tell her what, or why. 

She had given him that wide-eyed pleading look, and Stef had followed her outside without a second thought. It had taken only a candlemark of discreetly talking to various servants to find out that Herald-Mages Kilchas and Sandra had been ejected from the Work Room, which for some inexplicable reason had been filled with rugs and cushions. 

From there it had been easy. Jisa knew all the best places in the Palace for hide-and-seek, because of course she did. She had led Stef to this spot, and ‘put a shield’ on him, or at least said she was doing so – it wasn’t like he would know – in order that no one looking around with Thoughtsensing would spot them. 

Breda wasn’t going to be pleased with him for skipping his morning classes, but at the cost of burning every favour he had ever owed Medren, his roommate would cover for him. Unclear if it was worth it, and he’d had a few second thoughts, but he wasn’t about to disappoint Jisa. He didn’t think Medren would have agreed at all if he’d had any guess at what he and Jisa were really doing – he’d let him off with the impression that he was just going to keep Jisa company. _Probably thinks I’ll keep her out of trouble too._

It was the other way around, really. Jisa had been very reluctant to ‘listen in’ on a private conversation, but in the end, it hadn’t taken all that much convincing. _The more we know_ , he had said, seriously, looking her straight in the eye, _the more we can do to help._

He meant it. Not for the reward of Jisa’s thanks, or even the King’s gratitude. At least, not only that. If Jisa was right, and Herald Vanyel was really in some kind of trouble, then maybe there wasn’t much that a not-quite-fifteen-year-old Bardic student could do to help, but he intended to try. 

Focus. _What are they feeling?_

If he wanted to get anything useful out of this, he would need to use his Gift more flexibly and creatively than he ever had before. Which was its own fun challenge. He might even learn something that he could show off to Breda, and earn back the points he had just lost with her by skipping class. 

Start with the basics. A Bard could amplify emotions as well as soothing them. I want to rile them up more, he told himself. What song? 

A dozen options flashed through his mind. That stupid song about going to class naked that Lari had written as a joke. A song of an angry jilted lover, but that didn’t quite feel right – the war-song about the general condemning the lieutenant who had given information to the enemy was closer, but not quite right either. Hints of betrayal, anger. 

The song about the grieving mother who had let her daughter drown in the river while she was distracted. Regrets, sorrow, pain. 

Maybe it would be easier if he tried to focus on one person at a time. Could he? 

Herald Vanyel, he told himself. Picture his face. Imagine playing for him, a private performance to an audience of one – and ignore the tingle in his gut. _What would I want to sing?_

A sad song about a little boy lost in the woods, searching for his mother, hearing wolves howl in the distance.

That makes no sense. It was a song dominated by loneliness and fear and regret – the implied subtext was that the child had watched his mother die, and blamed himself for not being able to save her. Stef had never much liked the song, and it didn’t seem right at all. What would the most powerful Herald-Mage in the Kingdom be so afraid of? 

It was much, much later. 

Stef’s bottom had gone numb. His head ached dully. The Palace bell had rung several times now, distantly; they had been here for candlemarks. 

Jisa was still intent, focused. Stef’s head felt close to bursting. But whatever was happening inside the stone room, it wasn’t done yet, and he had no intention of giving up halfway. Nor of being bested by an eleven-year-old girl. 

Focus. He took a breath and pushed with his Gift again. The overall mood… Interesting. He no longer felt much urge to sing something soothing or calming. That wasn’t what was needed. 

Snippets of the Herald’s Creed song danced in his mind. _No force will ever bring it down / This is our sacred trust._

It had never seemed real to him before. Duty and honour were just words – surely no one really and truly believed that they were real in the same way that chairs and tables were. And yet. Right now, after candlemarks of paying as much attention to this particular audience as he had ever paid to anything, it felt real. 

_My path is clear before me now, my choices all are made._ A sort of mental stumble – the expectation that this particular line would fall flat, with this audience, it would draw out pain and confusion and doubt rather than relief. 

Ask his Gift what he ought to sing for Vanyel. What would hit him the hardest, right now? 

Apparently, the last stanza of ‘Sun and Shadow.’ _Will some power hear our plea / Take the curse from you and me / Grant us peace or set us free / Dare we to hope for tomorrow? / Is there no future but sorrow?_

And what he wanted to push into those lines? Loneliness. Loss. Pain, but there was relief in letting others see it. 

If I wanted to comfort him, he said to his Gift, not in words but in everything else, what would I sing? 

Another song from the Windrider Cycle. _Smell the fragrance of another new days' birth / Everyone who seeks a new life / free of the chains that tie one down / Stepping out into the new light / clean as the day when you were born._

Emphasis: the deep and abiding fact that this too would pass. 

What else? 

_I felt you close beside me / through the dreamy mist / I longed to see you / I longed to free you / I longed to feel your kiss/ Some day we’ll stand together and face eternity._

Stef started to, not quite sing, but hum the melody of ‘A Love That’s Meant to Be’ without intending to. Jisa gave him a startled look, and he felt his cheeks flaming and clamped his mouth shut. 

Fine. He could admit it to himself, in the privacy of his own thoughts. _I want him. I want to break down that door and hold him and promise he’ll never be alone again._

Which was almost certainly not the thing Herald Vanyel wanted to happen, right now. _He barely knows me. I can’t comfort him._

Besides which, it was confusing. Surely everything he had sensed the edges of, with his Gift, should have made him less interested. But somehow, that kind of vulnerability, coming from the greatest hero in the realm… It wasn’t quite arousing, that wasn’t the thing, but it drew all of his attention. 

And it made no sense. Weakness wasn’t attractive. The part of him that wanted to comfort Vanyel… _That isn’t me._ It wasn’t how he did things. _I don’t believe in promises. Not that kind_. 

The whole bizarre thing must have been getting to him, somehow. 

Focus. He was supposed to be spying on a secret meeting, not fantasizing about someone who was never going to be interested in him anyway.

* * *

They lay together in the bed, limbs intertwined, Shavri running her fingertips up and down Randi’s back. She could feel every knob of his spine – and sometimes that bothered her, an unwanted reminder of his illness, but right now it felt perfect. Sunlight streamed down on them from the window, a slice of cloud-dotted blue sky, and that was perfect too.

She was pleasantly drowsy, not quite enough to fall asleep. Some of the silliness had passed off, finally; for candlemarks they had both been giggling like teenagers, and even the slightest provocation would set them off again.

They had raised their shields long enough to walk back to Randi’s quarters, but dropped them again as soon as they crossed the threshold. By tomorrow she would be ready to keep her thoughts and feelings inside her own head – at least, she hoped so – but right now it felt wrong. It was intoxicating, feeling his mind so close to hers.

Her clothes made a trail across the rug. Randi hadn’t undressed her with quite so much enthusiasm in years.

 _:I love you:_ she sent.

Randi only tightened his arms around her.

Her thoughts still felt loose, unbound, though the giddy drunkenness was fading. _:Randi, do you ever wonder how our lives ended up here?:_

A waft of dark-edged amusement. _:Every goddamned day. I’m sorry to drag you into this, love:_

She hadn’t ever asked to be lifebonded to a King, but then again, no one had asked to be born. _All of our lives come as a surprise to us._ Maybe hers was weirder and more surreal than most, but really, being alive at all was plenty strange.

 _:I’m glad to be here:_ she sent. It felt suddenly very important that he knew that. _:It’s a privilege. To know what’s happening:_

Dara’s words had been eye-opening. They had dragged her into a situation far too complex and fraught for any sixteen-year-old, and her response was to feel _honoured._ She hadn’t had a choice, really – Rolan had Chosen for her – but it was clear that she would have dived into it headfirst given any chance.

Shavri hadn’t ever had a choice either. If she had…what?

 _:I would choose to be here:_ she sent.

Even though it was so incredibly hard?

Especially so, she thought. _All I ever wanted was to be where I was needed._ She had thought that meant one thing, when she was a child – to obey her parents, to raise her siblings – and then a burgeoning Healing-Gift had wrenched her life off-course, and she hadn’t minded at all.

And in the beginning, her lifebond had been the same. An unasked gift, something she wouldn’t have ever thought to want, but a gift all the same. Something precious. How had she lost sight of that?

Echoes of memory, a conversation twelve years ago. _I’ve wanted to be a mama my whole life. I know it’s probably selfish of me, but I want a child who’s mine._

And the world had granted her that dream. Van had given it to her. Jisa was so, so worth it.

So many precious gifts. A life most women in the Kingdom would trade theirs for in a heartbeat. When had she stopped seeing it that way?

 _:I would choose this again:_ she sent. _:I would choose you, Randi. A million times over:_

He didn’t answer in words, but she felt the waft of awe, joy, gratitude – and under it, something darker and colder.

 _:Would you?:_ he sent, and there was pain there. _:Shavri, it – I – it feels like I hold you back. Sometimes I wish I could set you free. You deserve so much better, than to be lifebonded to a…:_

To a dying man, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Shavri felt it surge up in her, the desperate contradiction.

When Randi died–

The bottomless, gaping pit, the writhing confusion that she couldn’t look at, couldn’t think about – but somehow it felt easier now, with her shields down. It wasn’t contained just in her, there was space to splay it out between them, the messy ugliness that couldn’t be put to words. An impossible choice, and it wasn’t fair, that she would have to make it, and yet–

_I have to be able to look at reality._

Randi was dying, and either Shavri would die with him, and leave so many people behind. Jisa. Tran. Quite possibly, Van – unless he chose to fight Leareth, and died out by the Ice Wall Mountains before her–

Or she wouldn’t, and she would go on living with a part of her soul torn out.

_I can’t, Randi. I can’t do it. Anything else. Not that._

Something had shifted, though. There was a wall of darkness across her future, and it hurt but she could look at it. Randi saw it as well. She felt the click of recognition in him – he had his own abyss, because of course he did, she had known that deep down but somehow it had never felt safe to speak of. Saying it out loud would make it too real.

It was there anyway, though, regardless of whether she looked at it. And it was easier if they gazed on it together.

 _:Shavri:_ There was a strange intensity in his mindvoice. _:You wouldn’t – I don’t, how can I – whatever ends up happening, whatever you choose, I forgive you:_ He was trembling faintly in her arms, and she knew how hard it was for him to push out those words, but he kept going. _:It’s not a betrayal, either way. If you live on without me, or if you decide it’s too hard… That’s you. Your choice:_

She heard the words, but she couldn’t hold onto them. 

Randi’s arms clenched around her. _:And it’s later. Not yet. We have time, love, and I want – I need – it’s such a precious thing. Nothing is forever, no one ever has that, but I want to hold onto you as long as I can. I want us to be happy together, until the end:_

The tension sighed out of him, and Shavri let the tears come, making no effort to fight them.

 _Carriages passing in the night,_ Vanyel had written once, in a letter from the Karsite Border, quoting something Jonne had said to him. Jonne the poet, who had given him a few priceless moments of joy. Who she had never even met.

Life was like that, in the end – decades with a lifebonded partner or a brief battlefield fling, the difference was only a matter of degree. No less treasured for being temporary.

 _:Until the end:_ she agreed.

It still felt like slamming into a stone wall, thinking about it – but that was tomorrow. Not today.

* * *

Vanyel lay on the makeshift bed-of-cushions, one arm stretched out and just barely touching Yfandes’ mane. He had been drifting on the edge of sleep for what felt like candlemarks, a heavy lassitude taking over his limbs. Dust tickled his nostrils, everything smelled strongly of horse, and there were bits of hay everywhere, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Savil had been there, before – he wasn’t sure how long ago, time was confusing right now. She had held him while he cried, and taken him for a walk when the roof over his head suddenly felt suffocating and he needed Yfandes to not be so close.

It felt good to have Yfandes there now; she was politely giving him space, not in full rapport, but her light was there around the edges of his mind and he could have soaked in that glow forever. Though he might feel differently in five minutes. _I don’t know what’s wrong with me._

Medren was there, not speaking – he had gamely tried to make conversation for a few minutes earlier, but Vanyel had found himself struggling to speak coherently, still half-drunk, and his nephew had eventually settled on respectful silence.

It seemed they still had a lineup of people to sit with him. Savil had mentioned that Lissa would be by after sunset. It was embarrassing, that they still didn’t trust him to be alone even with Yfandes there, but at the same time, he was grateful. It made him feel safer, even if that was false.

_Leareth’s still out there._

Six days since that first morning he had woken in Savil’s bed. Over a week, now, that he had known of Leareth’s plan. The terror surged again, setting his stomach to churning.

_What if he knows?_

It wasn’t yet a suspicious interval to go between dreams, but what if Leareth had some way of knowing that Vanyel’s Foresight was blocked? Hells, or what if his spies were deep enough in the capital to know that something had shaken up the routine of the King and most senior Heralds?

There was nothing to be done about it right now, he reminded himself. Melody had made him promise he would focus on resting, and he was trying to obey.

Yfandes must have sensed the panic rising in him, and send a wash of wordless reassurance. He turned his head to the side, looking into her eyes. Blue eyes, that held the whole sky – he could have drowned in them. _There’s so much of it,_ he had said to Moondance.

His Yfandes. He had come so close to losing her–

She lifted her head from the straw, gracefully, and snuffled into his hair. _:I’m not going anywhere, Chosen:_

 _:Are you sure?:_ He hadn’t meant to snipe at her, but the fear was transmuting to anger, hotter and sharper. _:You promised. And you left:_

He felt her flinch, and immediately regretted the words. _:Oh, Van…:_ No anger of her own, only sorrow and guilt. _:I don’t know. All I can say is, I won’t ever leave you of my own free will:_

 _:You’re a creation of the gods:_ He hated himself, for being so harsh with her, but he couldn’t seem to control it. _:Do you really have your own free will? What if they yank you away from me again?:_

It was the clearest he had ever said it – so many times he had formed that thought in the privacy behind his shields, but never brought it into the open. There was pain, in making it real, but release as well. No more secrets.

 _:Then maybe I’ve made another promise I can’t keep:_ She nosed at his face. _:But…I talked to Melody, yesterday. She was trying to help me figure this out; she thinks I broke through some kind of barrier, and it changed how my mind works. Before – it was like there was a bright line and I couldn’t look past it. Now it’s different. It’s still scary, it’s so hard to think about, but it’s not blocked off anymore:_

Oh. _:That must have hurt:_ he acknowledged.

A bright line, that couldn’t be crossed. No, Tran probably wouldn’t find it reassuring at all, what Yfandes had done.

 _:It did hurt. So much:_ Her muzzle settled across his chest. _:But it was worth it, for you. I’m only sorry it took so long:_

The hot rage rose up again, like bile in his throat. _:Why didn’t you just go to Melody in the first place?:_

 _:Oh:_ Surprise, chagrin. _:I didn’t – I wasn’t thinking clearly. It never occurred to me:_

The anger drained away as quickly as it had risen. Yfandes was politely holding back, but she could have thrown exactly the same words at him.

 _:Neither of us was thinking clearly:_ Vanyel admitted. _:It’s done now. Just… ‘Fandes, maybe I did need to tell Randi and the others no matter what, but still, this went nearly the worst way it could have. Everyone finding out half the story, the worst parts first, and when you had just walked out on me – no wonder Randi thought I was a traitor:_

Yfandes had no answer for a moment. _:I’m sorry:_ she sent finally. _:You’re right. It was an awkward way for them to find out – but Randi’s a good man. He’ll come to the right conclusion in the end:_

 _:And what if the right conclusion is that I am a traitor? That I need to be pushed out?:_ His breathing caught, tears sprouting. Damn it, the conversation in the Work Room had left him so raw; even now, candlemarks later, everything was still making him cry.

 _:Shush, love. Remember, Melody said it’s very normal:_ Her warm breath whuffed out across his face. _:And you’re not a traitor. I don’t know what the right answer is yet, love – whether we need to kill Leareth, or negotiate with him, or even ally with him. But we’ll find it. Together:_

He knew how much it cost her, the bottomless pit of agony and confusion when she considered, out loud, the possibility of joining Leareth. She was still there, bathing him in her light, not running away.

He craved it, but suddenly it felt like he couldn’t breathe again. _:’Fandes–:_

 _:Sorry, love:_ And she pulled back – close enough to touch, if he wanted, but not touching him herself, with body or mind.

Vanyel swallowed a sob. It was so confusing; he had no idea what he actually wanted.

“Uncle Van?” Medren’s voice was hesitant. “Are you all right?”

 _Definitely not._ “Fine,” he forced out, dragging himself into a sitting position. “Think I…need some air…can we…?” He was still slurring his words a little; it was humiliating.

“Of course.” Medren jumped to his feet, moving with the easy lightness of youth, and held out both hands.

Vanyel accepted his help to stand, and to navigate over the uneven pile of cushions and rugs, but out in the rush-strewn corridor between the stalls, he found that he could finally walk unaided. Medren hovered at his elbow, ready to catch him if he stumbled. _I wonder if he thinks I’m drugged._

If so, at least he wasn’t judgemental about it; Vanyel wasn’t trying to read him with Empathy, but all his receptive Mind-Gifts were incredibly sensitive right now, and Medren leaked nothing but attentive concern. That much was nice.

* * *

“Sorry,” Tran said raggedly, taking the handkerchief from her and dabbing at his eyes. “Don’t know why I’m so emotional. I swear I’m not normally like this.”

“I don’t mind.” Sitting next to him on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, Dara went on rubbing his back. “I feel a bit like that too. Melody said it was normal.”

They were in his quarters; Dara wasn’t sure how that had happened, but she had no objections. They had been having an ordinary, if rambling, conversation about tomorrow’s meeting-schedule, until Dara mentioned Rolan’s opinion on one of the Guild representatives, and Tran had opened his mouth, started a sentence with ‘Taver always said…’ and then burst into tears.

It made her eyes burn as well. No one ever really talked about the possibility of losing their Companion, but it was there. The same thing could happen to Rolan – and she stopped the line of thought there, because it was too awful to consider.

“I think you’re really brave,” she said.

A damp snort. “For what?”

“For not backing down.”

He lifted his head, looked sideways at her. “You don’t agree with me. I could tell.”

Dara lifted her free hand, palm up. “I don’t know what to think yet. It’s too confusing. Just, I guess I think Vanyel is being really brave, holding his ground on this, and so are you.”

Tran blinked, almost disbelieving. “You really do think that. What Moondance said...” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “Guess he’s got a point. That I’m trying to stop thinking of Van as a person, sort of, because it hurts too much to hold onto that _and_ think that he’s wrong.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I just want the world to make sense again.”

“Me too, but we can’t go back. And it’s better to know than not.”

“That’s true.” He felt silent, eyes staring past her into the distance. _I wonder what he’s thinking about._

“You must feel awkward about me sometimes,” she said quietly. The inside of her head still felt warm and melty, or else she probably wouldn’t have said it out loud.

“What?” His eyes darted back to her. “Why?”

All she could do was shrug. “Because Rolan Chose me, not you. I’ve noticed you looking at me before, sometimes… I have a story that it must really hurt. That maybe you feel like you aren’t good enough anymore.”

Tran chuckled. “You’re doing the Moondance thing now too. It must be catching.” He turned his shoulder toward her, reached for her arm. “I was upset at first, but not anymore. Can’t stay jealous of someone like you for long, you’re too…”

“Too what?” She felt her lips shifting into a smile.

“Too competent? Too friendly? I don’t even know.”

“You’re still a thousand times more qualified for this job than me,” she reminded him. There was a warm buzzing feeling in her chest, and she was pretty sure she was blushing.

He was smiling as well, a little sadly, but genuine. “Then good thing I’ll be around to teach you.”

Dara couldn’t think of an answer, so she just kept smiling at him. Slanting sunbeams from the window poured down on them, highlighting the faint texture of old, barely visible scarring on his bare forearm and the side of his neck. His dark brown eyes looked almost golden in this light.

“I’m glad as well,” she said finally. “Makes it a lot less scary, having you here.”

* * *

“You’re sure?” Stef said, incredulous.

“I’m definitely sure. Starwind and Moondance were there. Their minds are very distinctive, because they’re lifebonded.” Jisa wished he would stop looking so dubious – though, she had to admit, she had been guilty of the same thing already, when he mentioned knowing that her father was there, and she shot back that he couldn’t _possibly_ have seen that with Bardic Gift.

“And your parents,” Stef went on, lifting two more fingers. “With Melody and Savil, that brings us to eight, but you said there were nine?”

“I’m sure of it.” The ninth mind had felt vaguely familiar – a sturdy practical garden, with hedges dividing up plots of both flowers and vegetables, some neatly manicured and some wilder and more tangled – but it must have been someone she had never Looked at with her Mindhealing-Sight. “They were definitely a Herald, the Companion-bond is really obvious.”

“It must be someone else on the Senior Circle.” Stef’s eyes went distant, obviously thinking through names. Jisa wasn’t sure _why_ he knew the names of half the people at Court and nearly all the Heralds based in Haven, but apparently he did.

They were in her bedroom, with the door firmly closed and a chair pushed up under the doorknob. Mama wasn’t home, she had been gone all day, and Jisa had bolted lunch and finished her lessons with Beri as fast as she possibly could before giving Stef the agreed-upon signal, opening her window and draping her red Midwinter gown so it hung down the wall outside.

Jisa still felt a bit bad about lying to Beri and saying Melody had moved her lesson to the morning. Probably Beri would forget to ask later, so it wasn’t all that likely she would be found out, but she knew lying was wrong anyway.

Adults keeping secrets from her was wrong as well, she told herself firmly, ignoring the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

“Herald Keiran?” Stef suggested. “Herald Joshel?”

“It wasn’t Keiran. Felt like someone a lot younger… Could be Joshe, I’ve never seen him with my Sight, but doesn’t feel right.” Jisa frowned. “It wasn’t Kilchas or Sandra, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Katha. I don’t know.”

“Oh!” Dawning light in Stef’s eyes. “Could it be the new King’s Own?”

Jisa wrinkled her nose. “Dara? I guess, maybe, it would fit with how young the person felt, but it’s weird they would invite her to a secret meeting, she’s still a trainee.”

“Mmm.” Stef shook his head, tossing a lock of fiery hair out of his eyes. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter that much. Going back to the beginning. What were you picking up on?”

“Everyone was really tense,” Jisa started, and then trailed off, remembering.

Sometimes she and Melody gave names to the different parts of people’s minds, so it would be easier to know what they were talking about, since Melody perceived her Sight very differently. With Uncle Van, the greatest point of strain had been in the corner she thought was ethics/duty/loyalty/steadfastness/commitment to protecting, not a specific person but all of Valdemar. It was a part that most Heralds had, especially Papa, and it was something that had frightened her and made her feel sad, before – it was the part of Papa that had been pulling away from Mama, and from her. Not so much anymore. Papa loved Mama, and Jisa, and he loved a whole country too, and those things weren’t really in conflict. Jisa was old enough to understand now.

For Papa, and for most of the Heralds whose minds she had looked at, that part was very close to the part that was a Companion-bond. Which was different from a lifebond – less the shape a garden had always been going to grow into, more a tree that had been planted or a rock that had been laid on purpose. It wasn’t in the same part of the garden for everyone, but often it was in or close to the part that Melody would call ‘ethics’.

It was less like that for Uncle Van. The part of him that was Yfandes was a tree planted as close to the void in the center as it could be without falling in; it wasn’t the right shape to bridge that missing part entirely, but it needed to be there, the roots were woven in amongst the cracks that spread from the shattered emptiness, adding strength and stability.

Except that something had been very wrong.

Those roots had been somehow weakened, and the strain they should have absorbed was half shifted to the part-that-was-ethics, which just barely held that weight. No slack left, nothing that could move, everything locked into place – and she had watched in horror the whole time, just waiting for some unexpected shift to snap those overburdened vines, for everything to fall apart. Melody had been there, and apparently calm, which was the only reason Jisa hadn’t run out and banged on the door until they _stopped doing it._

“There’s something wrong with Vanyel’s Companion,” she said out loud, a lot more calmly than she felt. “It’s like the bond wasn’t load-bearing.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Stef said dryly.

“Sorry.” She and Melody tended slip into shorthand. “It looked bad. Anyway, what were you sensing about him?”

“That he was lonely and scared, mostly.” An odd expression flickered across Stef’s face. “And, it’s interesting. I kept wanting to sing the Herald’s Creed song, but with Vanyel in particular, I was wanting to change some of the lines, because they felt off. He’s uneasy about…his role as a Herald, I think.”

Jisa felt her eyebrows rising. “How can you tell _that_ just from singing?”

Stef looked smug. “I think there must be a sort of Bardic Sight. There’s a thing Breda mentioned to me once, about how she improvises lines sometimes when she’s singing for a small group and the mood isn’t quite working right, and she tries to really quickly read the room and figure out what would be better. I thought it was interesting so I practiced it a lot – I’m not very good at coming up with new lines on the spot yet, but I can usually tell when it’s not-right.”

“Oh. That’s neat.” He looked so proud of himself; Jisa had to smile. “Which lines felt wrong?”

“Hmm. The one about the deeds of those who lived before. And the part about the touch of my Companion’s thoughts – that didn’t feel wrong exactly, more like I expected it to be upsetting. The line about the sacred trust felt, not wrong, but weird. And then, the line with ‘my path is clear before me’ seemed _really_ wrong. For everyone else as well.”

“Huh.” All right, Jisa admitted to herself, she was impressed now, and a little jealous. Overall she thought her Gift had been more useful than Stef’s, but without Thoughtsensing, she couldn’t guess at any of the _content_ , or even the emotions, since her Empathy was blocked too. Only the parts of themselves that people were being the most, which left a lot up to interpretation.

“I think maybe they were all feeling very conflicted about something,” Jisa said. “With almost everyone, I was seeing a sort of strain between the part of them that was duty-and-ethics, and different other parts.” With Herald-Mage Savil, it had been quite clearly in tension with the part of them Melody called the caretaker, that was family/friendship/love/kindness/protection. With Papa, it had been a lot more complicated. It was harder to tell for Starwind and Moondance, even though she had spent plenty of time Looking at both of their minds – somehow the Companion-bonds were like a landmark, for Heralds, making it easier to find and name the various parts. 

“There were a lot of song-snippets I wanted to sing that were about betrayal,” Stef offered. “And being hurt and angry.”

“Did you have anything in particular for Herald Tantras?” Jisa asked hopefully. His mind had been especially confusing to watch. She could recognize him easily by the strange messiness of his Companion-bond – the rock planted there was close to the right shape to plug the void, but not quite, and there were cracks all around it, half-underwater, like the dark scary parts of Moondance’s mind had been once. It hurt to look at, even hazily.

She’d never looked at his mind before it had happened to him, it had been before she had Sight at all, but she thought it had once been a simple, ordinary, vibrant garden, all lush vegetable-plants in regular plots. Now it was something else. He had been so closed-off, everything locked away, half the quadrants dark – especially the caretaker-part, that had stood out.

There had been something clashing in him, but a lot more complex than just caring-about-the-Kingdom versus caring-about-a-friend. The part of him that was duty-and-ethics had been so _bright_. Captivating.

Stef shrugged. “I don’t know him. There was someone there who was more angry than everyone else, and I think maybe it was him, but I’m not sure.”

“Was my mama angry with Vanyel?” Jisa asked. She hadn’t forgotten those few overheard words. _You’ve lost a supporting pillar just at the time you need it most. It’s all right to resent that. There will be a chance to clear the air, later, once he’s a little more stable._

“I’m not sure. I haven’t sung for your mother before, so it was hard to pick it apart from the rest.”

Jisa wasn’t sure either. There had been stress on Mama’s mind, but not exactly between duty and friendship – then again, those parts of Mama weren’t as distinct as they were for most of the Heralds. The corner of her that was friendship/loyalty was so _big_ , blazing, so important to who she was – it had made tears come to Jisa eyes, Seeing it bowing and flickering under some unknown pressure, stretching against the part of her that was her bond to Papa–

Oh.

_She felt torn between loyalty to Papa and to Uncle Van._

It was a pure guess, but it felt right.

Jisa was kicking herself for not having thought to bring paper and take notes. There had been so much, happening so quickly – she had a very good memory, but even so it was mostly a blur in her head now.

“I think people were less upset by the end,” she said slowly.

Stef was nodding along. “I think so too. I was still getting sad and scared, but not as much tension. Toward the end I mostly wanted to sing that silly children’s song. You know–” he closed his eyes “–the sun will come back tomorrow / and there will be no more sorrow / because we love each other forever / and walk round the bend together.”

Jisa made a face. “I like that song. I don’t think it’s silly.” Though she could have guessed that Stef would. It wasn’t that he was solemn, he told jokes and tall tales, but there was a hardness under it. _Like he doesn’t really believe in friendship._ Another guess, but it felt right as well, and it made her sad. He was a garden of walls – she hadn’t actually Looked at his mind with her Sight, because he hadn’t said she could and that meant it was wrong, but she could guess.

…She had looked at all of the adults’ minds without asking. Jisa pushed away the guilt.

Stef rubbed his hands together. “So what do we think it was about?”

That was the most important question – and by far the hardest to answer.

“Starwind and Moondance,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s a big deal, that they came. They’re not really supposed to ever leave the Pelagirs, and besides, it’s very far away. They would’ve needed to Gate.”

“They owe Vanyel a favour?” Stef guessed.

“Not just Uncle Van. Savil too – and Mama. And me too.” She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m a Wingsister, you know.”

“Oh. How did you manage that?” Stef looked a little impressed, but not wide-eyed or awed.

“Starwind got hurt badly,” Jisa said proudly. “Mama saved his life. I helped her.”

Stef had the grace not to look dubious. “So they owe a _lot_ of people here favours. Maybe someone asked them to come help defend the Kingdom against danger?”

“Maybe.” Jisa wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know if Papa would want to ask them for that. We don’t have a treaty. And…to me it felt like Moondance was there to support Uncle Van in particular. He was sitting next to him and his mind kept reaching out. They’re very good friends.”

It was Stef’s turn to frown suspiciously.

“I can’t think what Uncle Van could’ve done!” Jisa burst out. “That would’ve made everyone so mad at each other that the only way to fix it was for Melody to use her Gift on them. She wouldn’t do that unless she really, really, really had to.” It was so unlike her.

“Maybe he was on a secret mission and he messed up somehow?” Stef offered. “And his Companion might’ve got hurt that way.”

“He doesn’t really go anywhere for missions,” Jisa pointed out. “Papa wants him here in Haven and he can use the Web to work at a distance.”

“Not for everything, though. If he had to go outside Valdemar…” Stef’s eyes lit up. “Oh! What if it was a spy-mission! To Hardorn or Rethewellan, maybe.” 

“Maybe.” They just didn’t have enough of the story.

But enough to know that something was very, very wrong.

Jisa hugged herself, suddenly feeling very small. “Stef, I don’t know what to do!”

“We’ll find a way. We’ll figure out what happened and we’ll help, all right?”

He was trying to make her feel better, she thought, with bravado – he was just as confused as she was, and she thought he was afraid as well, though he hid it well.

A brush against her shields. _:Jisa?:_

Oh, no.

Scrambling to her feet, she opened her shields just a little. _:I’ll be right there, mama:_

“What?” Stef said, following her lead and slipping down from where he had perched on her bed.

“Shh. My mama’s home. You have to go!” She pointed at the window, already heading for her door to move the chair. “Just climb out. I’ll come find you later.” Jisa had no desire to find out what Mama would do if she caught her with a strange boy in her bedroom. 

* * *

The sun was setting, staining the horizon in reds and golds, by the time Shavri finally made her way back towards her quarters. Randi had fallen asleep in her arms, after many candlemarks of talking, all the conversations they should have had years ago. She was tired, but not sleepy, and there were other things she needed to do. Words she needed to say.

She reached ahead with a Mindtouch. _:Jisa?:_

 _:I’ll be right there, mama:_ Her daughter had directional shields up, leaving only the channel of formal Mindspeech, if not quite as tight as the Heralds’ protocols. It made Shavri feel sad, and a little cold inside. _She never used to shield me out._

But she had set the tone, hadn’t she? So many things she hadn’t wanted Jisa to worry about, burdens that she had wanted to shelter her from and only sometimes succeeded. It didn’t matter how hard she had tried to make the world better for her daughter, Jisa had still grown up during a war. She still had a papa who was slowly dying.

 _You can’t shelter her forever,_ Melody had said to her once. _She’s not so fragile as all that._ Maybe she was right; maybe it was unfair to Jisa, to keep things from her. _I never liked being treated like a child._

She started to take out her key, but Jisa was there first, unbolting and opening the door. She was… _Oh._ For a moment, it felt like she was seeing her daughter for the first time. Jisa’s head came to her shoulder, now. Her gown was askew, somehow she had gotten dirt on her cheek, and her braids were coming undone in wisps. All elbows and knees, and when had her face gotten so adult…? The line of her jaw, that stubborn chin. A hint of Vanyel’s features.

_She’s not a little girl anymore._

Intelligent brown eyes, full of thoughts that Shavri might never fully understand again.

 _:I love you, pet:_ Suddenly she was overflowing with it, warm and pink-gold like the sunset, and she held out her arms. : _So much. Jisa, sweet, I don’t tell you that enough. You’re the brightest thing in my life and I am so, so grateful that I have you:_

The tiniest hint of a frown, confusion, and then Jisa stepped into the circle of her arms. _:I love you too, mama:_

Standing in the doorway, Shavri squeezed her daughter tight, feeling the sturdy wings of her shoulder blades, muscle over bone. Jisa practiced in the salle with the Bardic-trainees and sometimes the younger Herald-trainees, several times a week. From her very first lesson, she had loved it – so unlike Shavri’s own experience.

_She’s so strong._

Need would have approved. The start of a flinch – Need hadn’t wanted Shavri in the first place, had she? She had wanted Jisa, and Jisa was growing up so damned fast…

 _I notice I’m afraid for you, pet._ Let go of it, because that was in the future, and right now there was only this one moment, warm and golden and bursting with joy.

 _:Why are you so happy, mama?:_ Jisa sent, innocent curiosity and a hint of something else. Not guilt, exactly, but…furtive. Maybe Jisa had been misbehaving again, sneaking away from her lessons with Beri, and anticipated getting in trouble.

She might well feel differently in the morning, but right now, Shavri forgave her for it, and for everything.

 _:Because I’m the luckiest mother in the world, to have you as a daughter:_ she sent. A true answer, if incomplete. _:I know I haven’t always been as good to you as I should. I’ll try to do better, I promise:_

Jisa rested her cheek on Shavri’s breast, and Shavri leaned forward to kiss the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

 _:I understand:_ Jisa sent. _:Really, mama. It’s hard, isn’t it? I know you have to help Papa:_

There were complex overtones there, that Shavri couldn’t quite read, and she wished Jisa would unshield more, but she wasn’t going to ask. You couldn’t force trust.

 _:I do:_ she sent. _:I’m glad you understand, and I’m sorry that you have to share us with a whole kingdom. I’ll still try to do better by you:_

There was a long silence.

Finally, Jisa wriggled away. “Play with me, mama?” she said out loud.

“Of course, sweet.” Nothing would have made her happier.

* * *

“Copper for your thoughts?” Andrel said.

Savil rolled over, and reached to tweak his nose. “That I could look at you all day. And that you’re far too young for me. Feels like I’m robbing the cradle.” Though he wasn’t really young anymore – almost fifty now. Grey showing in his hair, dulling the bright orange, and a hint of crow’s-feet around his eyes. He’d put on a paunch, but she didn’t mind. It made him feel reassuringly solid.

“Oh, no. Don’t say that.” Andy reached for her. “You’re beautiful. And wonderful.”

“Now we’re both being sappy.” She laughed, and flopped back against his chest. “Sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

“No, don’t. You could say a few more nice things about me and I’d not mind. I love to see you happy, even if I don’t know why.”

She wasn’t happy, exactly. Just giddy, even many candlemarks after leaving the Work Room. Melody had warned her to expect it, and that she ought to take the rest of the day off from work, which was a good idea. _I can’t imagine the damage I could do to our treasury-budget in this state._ Or the odd looks Joshe and Keiran would give her if she showed up giggling like a schoolgirl.

 _:Kellan:_ she sent. _:I love you:_

 _:I know, Chosen:_ Patient, fond.

She had her bed back, much larger and more comfortable than the guest-bed – Van was in the stables, with Medren keeping him company until Lissa was up. Somehow it felt like she had her life back as well. 

_We’ll be all right._ She wasn’t sure she ought to believe that – there were so many problems still unsolved – but, for the first time, it felt true. It felt like maybe, somehow, they could thread the needle of this terrifying future. Together.

 _Oh, Jay, I wish you were here._ They had spoken of Herald Jaysen a little, her and Vanyel. Haltingly, he had recounted what he remembered of a conversation four years ago in a place outside time, a place most mortals would never see and then live to describe – another reminder of just how bizarre his life was. Savil had let herself weep, and it had felt right.

 _Take care of Savil for me_ , Jaysen had said to Vanyel.

_And you did, ke’chara. You did._

They had lost something precious, and maybe it was too late to recover it, but she hadn’t lost him.

He was still there.

* * *

“Melody?” Lissa said, leaning on the stall-door, keeping her voice to a low murmur. A lantern dangling from a hook behind her gave off a faint reddish glow, casting her face in relief. “What did you _do_ to my brother?”

Melody raised her eyebrows slightly. “What? Is he having trouble?” She spoke quietly as well, following Lissa’s lead.

“No. Sort of. I don’t know.” Lissa yanked at her braid. “He hasn’t been acting like himself at all. He was all _cuddly._ I mean, I don’t mind, just, Van is the least cuddly person I know. I’d almost think he was drunk, but he’s not like that when he’s drunk!”

Despite herself, Melody smirked. “I see.” She stepped to the side, trying to peer past Lissa.

“He’s asleep,” the woman clarified. “Guess I’m staying the night out here again. Ah well, at least it’s cozy.”

“I won’t wake him, then.” Melody had left it rather late to check on him; he had seemed all right with Savil, earlier.

The conversation had ended, after candlemarks, with everyone more relaxed, or at least limp with exhaustion – and, indeed, remarkably cuddly, with Starwind, Moondance, Shavri, Randi, Savil, and Van piled together like puppies. Even Tran and Dara had been holding hands for a while. Dara had been quite giggly, and repeated several times that she wanted to hug everyone; she might have absorbed more of the diffuse Mindhealing energy than she really needed, but it hadn’t seemed to do her any harm.

Melody had expected some aftereffects, though, and after a quick nap, she had spent the afternoon running back and forth all afternoon, following up with everyone individually. She was more than ready for bed.

“Figure he’ll be up again in a candlemark,” Lissa said. “If you want to wait. He keeps having nightmares, poor thing, I don’t know if I should be worried?”

Melody shook her head. “No, that’s fairly predictable. Other than drunk, how did he seem to you tonight?”

Lissa shook her head. “He cried for an entire candlemark. But he wasn’t – I mean, I kept asking him if he wanted Savil, or you, and he said it was all right. That he just wanted me to hold him.”

Melody nodded. It seemed like a good sign, actually, that Vanyel had been willing to accept his sister’s comfort. “Some context,” she added. “He had a very difficult conversation today and he’s still processing it. Keep an eye on him, and send someone to get me if you’re worried. Remind him he can Mindtouch me anytime.” She ought to see him properly in the morning, to see which redirect-patterns their little session had knocked loose, and whether he needed any of them put back. _Gods, this whole thing is so much work._

She couldn’t begrudge it, though. It had shifted the atmosphere between the various people involved, which would mean less work for her in the long run. And, if she was honest with herself, it had been fascinating.

Lissa nodded. “Thank you.” She yawned, cupping a hand to her mouth. “Sorry. I’m well-rested, I promise! I won’t doze off. Brought a book to read and everything.”

“It’s all right.” Melody tried not to smirk at her obvious self-consciousness. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome. He’s my brother. I couldn’t do anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking up! This is still mostly an aftermath chapter, but does contain some NEW DRAMA.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Shavri found Tantras sitting in the office of the King’s Own, with his head in his hands.

“Tran?” she said cautiously. It was about a candlemark after dawn, a late start for her – she had played with Jisa for candlemarks before realizing it was past her daughter’s bedtime, and then she had stayed in the suite to eat breakfast with her. Jisa had seemed very distracted, but had shaken her head when Shavri asked if she wanted to talk about it. Who knew what was on her mind, anymore? Not her mother. It was probably normal, part and parcel of children growing up – certainly at Jisa’s age she had been long past sharing every careless thought with her own mother – but she still felt wistful about it.

Tran lifted his head. “Oh. Heya.”

“Why the long face?” She nudged the door shut with her hip, carried the tray over to the desk, and set it down. “I brought tea for us.”

“Thank you.” He reached for the pot, avoiding her eyes.

“I’m serious, Tran.” Shavri pulled up a chair next to him. “What’s bothering you?”

“…I made a mistake.” There was an almost furtive look in his eyes.

“Oh?”

A red flush stained his cheeks, creeping down to his neck. “I might’ve, um, bedded Dara.”

“What?” Shavri barely managed not to burst out laughing. He looked so embarrassed about it.

“Well, or maybe she bedded me, I’m not sure.” Tran stared at the tabletop hard enough that she wouldn’t have surprised to see a hole burning in it. “She certainly knows what she wants and goes for it.”

Shavri lifted a hand to her mouth; her lips wouldn’t stop twitching. “Then I don’t see what’s wrong?”

“I took advantage of her!” Tran set down the teapot with a thunk. “She’s sixteen, Shavri. And a trainee. It’s so inappropriate.”

“What did your Companions say about it?” That seemed relevant to her, anyway.

Tran’s eyes darted sideways. “Delian never gives me advice on anything personal, he says to figure it out on my own. And I might’ve, er, not stopped to ask him. It happened sort of quickly.”

“I see.” She remembered seeing the two of them wander off together from the Work Room, not holding hands, but looking like maybe they wanted to. “And you were a bit drunk from Melody’s Gift, so you let it happen?” Remembering how she had felt, she ought not to be surprised. _I could barely keep my hands off Randi long enough to get back to his suite._

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tran let his head fall into his hands. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have.”

Shavri sighed. “You’ll have to see what Delian says, I suppose, and Rolan, but – if she initiated, and you both had fun, I can’t see what’s wrong with it.”

A moment later, it occurred to her that Randi might disagree. Casual relationships between Heralds weren’t uncommon – Savil and Jaysen had been an example – but Dara was very young, even if she was hardly a child.

“Just don’t bring any morning-after awkwardness into our next meeting,” she said. “You should probably talk to her.”

Tran groaned. “I know, I should. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say!”

Shavri pressed her teacup against her forehead; she had woken up feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks, but now she could feel a headache threatening. “Just be an adult about it, Tran. She’ll do the same. Anyway. Can we look at our schedule and find a time for all of us to meet?”

* * *

Dara had promised herself that she would talk to Tran first thing in the morning.

She wasn’t, though. Shavri had just left, to go speak with Randi and see if the proposed meeting-time that afternoon worked for him, and Tantras was sitting with his back half to her, eyes fixed on the desk.

Every time she thought about trying to address him, it felt like slipping off a wall.

Square her shoulders. _You can do this._ She wasn’t a coward, and she wasn’t a child.

“Tran,” she said out loud. “Are you all right?”

He lifted his head, shoulders turning, dark eyes settling somewhere around her left nostril. “I’m fine.”

The lines of tension around his mouth belied the words. “Hey.” She took a step towards him – and, when he stiffened visibly, stopped, still a yard away. “Tran, you know you could tell me, right? If you weren’t fine?” She couldn’t understand why he was being like this. Yesterday they had talked for candlemarks, before and after…other things. She hadn’t known what to say, half the time, but it hadn’t felt like the sort of thing where she ought to ask Rolan.

Probably she should have asked Rolan before she slept with him, though. The uneasy guilt crept into her gut again. _I took advantage of him._ He had been so vulnerable.

Rolan, after the fact, had refused to give an opinion on the matter. She wasn’t picking up any judgement from him, though; if anything, he felt amused.

Tran said nothing.

It was very awkward, standing and looking down at him. She pulled over a chair and sat.

 _:Can we talk?:_ she sent.

 _:…I suppose we should:_ A hint of shame in the overtones. _:Dara, listen – I’m sorry. About yesterday:_

She leaned back in the chair, startled. _:You’re sorry?:_

 _:It was inappropriate of me:_ His hands twisted together in his lap. _:I abused my position of authority, and I’m sorry:_

 _:You abused–:_ Stop. Take a deep breath. _:Tran. You’re thinking that you pressured me?:_

_:Yes, and I–:_

_:No. Stop:_ She held up a hand. _:It was my idea, all right?:_ At some point it had just become impossible to resist. _:I was going to apologize. You were in an altered state and I took advantage–:_

His eyes went wide. _:Oh:_ Lips slightly parted, and even now she wanted to shove him into the wall and kiss him, but she definitely wasn’t going to. _:I… Dara, you shouldn’t feel that way. I’m an adult–:_

 _:So am I:_ Damn it, if he was going to call her a child after everything… _:Maybe I made a less than ideal decision, but it was mine:_

Awkward silence.

Well, fine. Dara was hardly a virgin; it wasn’t the first time she’d been the one having to force a morning-after conversation to happen, when it clearly needed to. _:Tran, listen. That was a nice time, yesterday. I had fun. I hope you had fun–:_

_:Gods! If you’re worried I didn’t–:_

_:Not particularly, no:_ They were both Mind-Gifted, and she had been very aware of what he enjoyed. It wasn’t the first time she had bedded someone Gifted, there were other trainees at the Collegium, but someone with Mindspeech as strong as Tran’s was something else altogether. _:Anyway. If we’re both worried we took advantage of each other, let’s just call it even:_

He frowned, but finally nodded.

 _:Tran, don’t take this the wrong way. I like you. You’re cute and sweet, and very competent, and I have a lot of respect for you. If I were a full Herald, I would be interested in taking this further:_ She took another breath. _:We shouldn’t, though. Because I am still technically a trainee, and that might make it weird:_

She hoped that in Mindspeech, it would come through just how much her reluctance wasn’t about him _._ After all they had talked about yesterday, how open he had been with her… _I don’t want him to think he’s too broken to be likeable._

Tran did seem disappointed, and hurt, but he nodded. _:I understand:_

 _:We should take some time to think about it anyway:_ she sent. _:Everything’s been so intense. I know my feelings have been all over the place. Not a good time to be making life decisions:_

Another nod.

 _:Hey:_ She held out her arm. _:We can be friends either way, right?:_

Tran hesitated, and then smiled crookedly, and reached to grip her hand. _:Friends:_

* * *

Shavri brought Savil the watered wine she had requested, and then settled cross-legged on the bed again, reaching for Randi’s hand. He felt the cool touch of her Gift, pushing back the weakness and fatigue a little, though it did nothing about the dull ache in his back.

He glanced around at the other faces. Savil was unreadable, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for her; he suspected she was just tired. Tran – who had arrived early and shamefacedly confessed his misdeeds of the night before – kept glancing at Dara out of the corner of his eye. Dara, for her part, was perfectly attentive, chalk already in her hand and poised above the slate she carried everywhere; Randi had wondered if her strange frugality around paper was a relic of a childhood spent in poverty.

He hadn’t even been sure what to tell Tran, or whether he ought to take Dara aside later and talk to her. It didn’t seem like it necessarily _had_ to be a problem, but it wouldn’t exactly look good from an outside perspective, an adult Herald sleeping with a trainee. Even if Dara was hardly an ordinary trainee. _She’s more ready for her Whites than I was at nineteen._

Worry about it later.

Melody was there as well, fidgeting with the rim of her teacup, her eyes moving and taking in everything while giving nothing away. She was so damned unflappable, Randi never knew what she was thinking about. Starwind and Moondance were sharing the loveseat; they both looked tired, but relaxed, and as usual their calm took the edge off his own nerves. They must have run out of clean clothes; they were both wearing Valdemaran-style tunics, probably scrounged up by Dara. Juxtaposed with their exotic white hair, it was somewhere between jarring and amusing.

And that was everyone. Vanyel wasn’t up for joining any of their meetings today, Savil had informed him, and Randi found he was more relieved than disappointed about it.

“We’re all here,” he said. “Let’s keep this focused, I know some of you have meetings later. First off, I wanted to check in with all of you. How are you holding up?”

Silence. Randi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please. It’s relevant. And after yesterday, we should be able to talk to each other. Let’s try one sentence, and I’ll start.” He closed his eyes. Center and ground; anchor in his body. “I’m very tired, so bear with me if I’m a little slow. But I feel…solid. Supported.” He turned to Shavri, feeling her pulse of surprise that he had invoked something like the format of their conversation the day before.

Even now, with both of them shielding normally again, their bond felt closer than before, like someone had blown the dust off it.

“I’m feeling a bit frazzled,” Shavri admitted. “Lots of running around this morning. But I feel rested, and hopeful. Like we’re finally making headway.”

They made their way around, all the way to Starwind, who as usual spoke in Tayledras and asked Moondance to translate.

“Good,” Randi said. “I have a feeling if I’d asked yesterday, I’d have gotten very different answers. So, well, we did lose an entire day, but I’d say it was worth it. Anyway. I want to have a proper planning-meeting soon, where we go over what we know and what we need to do.” He had been doing a lot of thinking, ever since he woke up. “One of the things I realized, this morning… I’ve been going about it like this was a Karsite border-attack, an immediate threat, but we have enough information now to know that it isn’t. Leareth isn’t about to march an army on us – I know he isn’t, because I had Van check the pass not long ago. Of course, we have to assume he’s not stupid, and he knows Van knows about the pass, could be he’s switched to come in somewhere else, but he certainly seems to be angling for an alliance. I expect he’ll want to see if his leap of faith pays out. It hasn’t been long, and Van’s gone months without having the dream before. I don’t think Leareth will notice anything out of the ordinary immediately. So we’ve got time to think over this carefully.”

There were ways Leareth could already know, of course – if he’d had a Foresight dream, but without Vanyel in it, that would give away that something odd was going on. Or if he had spies deep enough to infiltrate the Senior Heraldic Circle…

 _If he’s that good, we’ve already lost_. In the scenario where Leareth already knew what was happening now, _and_ was genuinely aiming to harm Valdemar, there was nothing to be done. Might as well focus on all the other possible scenarios, where they could still win.

And even in the worst case, it wasn’t like Leareth would be marching on Haven tomorrow. _We have time._ Not enough, never enough, maybe it was already far too late to catch up on preparations they should have started ten years ago – but it was the world they had.

“A few things are more time sensitive,” Randi went on. “One. What to tell the rest of the Senior Circle. Personally, I’m leaning towards being as open as we can. Seems to me that keeping secrets from each other has only ever caused problems.”

A muted sigh went around the room, but no one disagreed.

“Another thing.” Randi took a deep, steadying breath. “There’s someone who I wouldn’t normally include, but who will be affected by this. In his place, I wouldn’t want to be blindsided by it, if we suddenly end up in a full-scale war.” Even years later, he was still a little upset with Queen Elspeth for keeping Leareth’s existence secret from him until _after_ he was crowned – that revelation had been the last thing he needed, in a week already filled with chaos and stress.

Blank expressions.

“Treven,” Shavri said.

“That’s who I was thinking of, yes.” Randi lifted a hand to his temple. “He is very young, but if anything happens to me, he is the heir, no matter his age.” He hoped he had another five years, or longer, but it wasn’t like the Healers understood the natural course of his illness; they had never seen it before. He was already weak enough that a bout of marsh-fever might push him over the edge. Shavri tried hard to ward off minor illnesses before they became major, but these days even a cold send him to his bed for weeks.

“Seems unfair,” Shavri murmured. “To put that much on a child’s shoulders.”

“It’s unfair to put the future throne of Valdemar on him.” Randi held up both hands, helplessly. “But we did. Given that, he deserves to know. If not everything, at least that there’s a threat.”

Savil was nodding. So were Starwind and Moondance.

“I think you should,” Dara said. “He’s very mature for his age. You can trust him to be discreet.”

Randi agreed that Treven wasn’t the sort of youngster who would be tempted to whisper state secrets to his classmates to impress them, but it was good to have confirmation.

“I don’t know.” Doubt in Shavri’s voice. “It’s not like he can really do anything to help, yet. I’m worried it’ll only scare him.”

Savil’s mouth twitched. “I don’t think that boy runs from anything.”

“I’m not going to terrify him,” Randi said soothingly. “I won’t give him the unvarnished truth, and we aren’t making him responsible for any of it yet. Just giving him time to adjust.” 

Shavri still looked dubious.

Starwind murmured something in Tayledras to Moondance, who glanced up. “Starwind thinks the young man would find strength in it,” the Healing-Adept said. “To know he is trusted with such secrets. If his spirit is as it sounds, he will only be more determined to be ready.”

Randi nodded. “I can’t claim to know his heart and soul, but…I think so. Anyway, we don’t have to decide immediately. Moving on. We do need to decide whether to make Starwind and Moondance’s visit public. Moondance, how long do you think the two of you will stay?”

Another brief conference in Tayledras. Randi was starting to find it seriously irritating that he didn’t speak the language.

“Perhaps another two weeks,” Moondance said finally. “I wish we might stay as long as our Wingbrother needs us, and yet it would not do to leave our son alone for very much longer.”

Two weeks. Shorter than Randi had hoped – he was getting used to having them around – but longer than was practical to keep hiding them behind illusions.

“I think this may be another case where things are better in the open,” he said. “And the downside seems low, so. Starwind k’Treva, Speaker for the Vale, and Moondance k’Treva, Healing-Adept – would you present yourself for aformal introduction in the throne room tomorrow?”

* * *

Vanyel lay on his side overtop of the covers, knees pulled into his chest. He was in his own room, which felt alien – it had been a week since he slept here. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could feel Moondance’s silent presence, green-gold and warm. 

_:Sorry:_ he sent. Mindspeech felt easier than speaking out loud.

_:What are you sorry for?:_

_:That I’m terrible company:_ Vanyel didn’t understand why he was so exhausted – he had slept well enough last night. He was still having nightmares that woke him often, but with Yfandes right there, and Lissa holding him each time until he stopped shaking, he had mostly been able to fall asleep again.

He ached. Like the soreness of bruises and overused muscles the day after a gruelling battle, except it was in his head. Thinking at all felt inexplicably difficult, and even the most mundane thoughts, like noticing it was snowing, were obscurely painful. Though he didn’t feel like he was upset about anything in particular. _I’m just miserable for no reason._

Well into the morning, he had woken to Savil’s presence; she had spent about half a candlemark with him before she had to dash off for some other duty. Andrel had taken her place, and then around noon Yfandes had apologetically hinted that she could use some time outside to stretch her legs. _She needs a break from me, is what she meant._ He had been feeling maudlin even then, and she kept prodding him out of the worst thought-spirals; it must have been tiring for her.

Vanyel could still feel the glow that was her, off in the distance, but she seemed distracted, and was partially shielding him out.

He had been trying to nap – he didn’t particularly want to be conscious right now – but even though he was too tired to move, it seemed he wasn’t sleepy. He might have nodded off for a minute or two, though, because he didn’t actually remember Moondance taking Andy’s place.

 _:I do not mind:_ Moondance sent. Vanyel felt a brush of air moving, and then the Healing-Adept’s hand on his back, warm. _:Relax, and rest your mind:_

_:I’m trying. I can’t sleep:_

Yfandes was back. Savil and Shavri, at least, had mostly forgiven him, and even Randi wasn’t really angry anymore. He wasn’t alone.

But that didn’t mean everything was all right. So far from it.

 _:Do you wish to speak of it?:_ Moondance sent, still rubbing his back.

 _I don’t know what ‘it’ is._ Vanyel had been trying not to dwell on the situation itself; he was too foggy to make progress, he just ended up going in circles. Nothing in his mind was safe, everything was diffuse wrongness and pain. On top of that, his stomach was still unsettled, and for some reason he had a headache.

 _:I want it to stop:_ he sent.

 _:What do you wish to stop?:_ There was only gentle curiosity in Moondance’s mindvoice.

_:I don’t know. Everything:_

_:I know that feeling:_ A surge of sympathy. _:Would you like that I call Melody? She came before, but you were sleeping:_

 _:Oh:_ He must have dozed for longer than he had realized. _:I don’t know:_ Mostly it sounded exhausting.

 _:I will ask her:_ Moondance sent. _:She would wish to know that you are struggling:_

Was he struggling? The word gave him a mental picture of someone desperately trying to swim upstream; he felt more like he had found some small rock to cling to, a long, long way from shore. Too tired to swim anymore, and no destination in sight…

 _:It will pass:_ Moondance sent, reassuring. A pause. _:Melody will be here soon:_

Vanyel could almost feel the thud of each second sliding by, falling into the past. Wasted time. _What if it’s already too late –_ no, that wasn’t a helpful thought, set it aside. He was doing a lot of setting aside unhelpful thoughts, today, and it was wearing on him.

He felt the bed dip and bounce back as Moondance rose, then his soft footfalls towards the doorway, and the click of the bolt being slid back. A waft of cooler air.

“Vanyel.” Melody’s voice was as crisp as always. The bed creaked again as she sat. “Heard you’re having a rough day. Tell me what’s going on?”

Speaking out loud still felt like too much effort. _:Can I use Mindspeech?:_

_:Of course:_

It was probably rude to talk to her without even bothering to sit up or open his eyes, but he couldn’t manage to care. _:I don’t know, I just feel awful:_

 _:I can imagine:_ A pause. _:I’m guessing you were hoping it would be easier, now that Yfandes is back?:_

Obviously. He should have been happy about it.

 _:For one:_ Melody sent _, :I think you may be forgetting how much pain you were in a couple of days ago. You are doing better. How many times have you thought about wanting to die today?:_

 _:…None?:_ Which he hadn’t even noticed until now. He had been stewing over Tran’s words the day before, how badly he had hurt Savil, whether he had doomed the Kingdom – he had caught himself ruminating on the might-have-been where Yfandes hadn’t left and he had told Randi under better circumstances – but even though all of it had hurt, he hadn’t been at all tempted to sneak past Andrel and throw himself off the belltower. In the worst of it, he had thought about asking Andy to give him some kind of drug so he could just sleep for the next day or so, but he had decided against, in case Randi needed to urgently ask him about anything.

 _:There you have it:_ He felt Melody lay her hand over his. _:I’m sorry it’s still hard, but it’s to be expected. You went through quite an ordeal. It’s going to take time, and effort, to get back to normal. Imagine if you’d spent the last week fighting a non-stop battle; of course you would need to rest after that. Same thing. You’ve used up all your emotional resources just surviving, and your mind has formed negative habits. And yesterday had some very intense highs and lows – you’re going to crash after that. I’m feeling it as well, to be honest:_ A pause. _:I know that’s not what you wanted to hear. Vanyel, it doesn’t make you weak, that you need time to recover. And I’m here to help:_

That…did make a lot of sense.

“I am going to ask you to do some things,” Melody sent, out loud. “You’re going to find this very irritating, but I would like you to get out of bed and get dressed properly. Maybe take a bath. At least wash your face and comb your hair. Can you do that for me?”

Vanyel groaned. _:Melody, I’m not a toddler:_

“I’m not saying you are.”

He sighed, opened his eyes, and hauled himself into a sitting position, wincing as the band of pain around his head sharpened. _:Ugh. Why am I so dizzy?:_

“I’m going to take a guess that you haven’t been drinking enough water. Why don’t I get you some?”

He watched vaguely as she filled a cup from the jug at his desk, and brought it to him.

“And how are things with your lady Yfandes?” she said, watching his face closely.

He took a grateful sip; he hadn’t even noticed how dry his mouth was. _:I don’t know. It’s like I can’t make up my mind how to feel. One minute I’m stuck to her like a burr, and then all of a sudden I’m furious and I can’t even be in the same room:_ Poor Yfandes. It had to be giving her whiplash. _:She’s being very patient:_

“I’m glad.” A flicker of her eyelids. “Vanyel, what you’re feeling seems very understandable to me. She’s one of the most important people in your life, and she violated your trust deeply. That’s going to result in some confused emotions, and it might feel like it doesn’t make sense, but your mind is trying to reset its expectations. You can’t just go back to the way things were before. I think you will settle into something stable again, at some point, but there will be ups and downs first. Does that make sense?”

Vanyel nodded reluctantly. _Doesn’t mean I like it._

“I had a bit of a talk with her, about how to approach it. I told her she would need to be patient. I’m going to say the same to you. Be kind to yourself. Which isn’t a license to be cruel to her, of course – this is very challenging for her as well, but I’m sure you know that.” Melody’s hand darted up to adjust the neck of her robes. “You’re not sure how much to trust her, and she isn’t how sure how much to trust herself. You have to talk about that. Later, once you’re ready.”

 _:I know:_ There were a lot of conversations he needed to have with Yfandes. Filling her in properly on the second dream, for one – what he remembered of it, he hadn’t taken notes, though it was still a lot clearer in his mind than the blur of days that had followed.

“Good. Listen – I’m willing to help the two of you have some of those conversations, if you want me there. It might seem silly, but I think it can make it a lot easier, to have someone else keeping track of the thread for you.”

Vanyel nodded. Moondance had already made the same offer. He had declined, mostly because having a conversation at all had felt too tiring. _:I’ll think about it:_

Melody stood up, briskly smoothing down her robes. “You seem a bit less sluggish, now. Better?”

“…A bit,” Vanyel admitted out loud. He wasn’t exactly feeling lively, but he could move, and think. He was suddenly far too aware of the stubble itching on his jawline. _I must look like a villain out of bad play._ Facial hair was a terrible look on him; it always came in scruffy and lopsided. “Maybe I will wash up.”

Melody held out her hand, and Vanyel let her pull him to his feet.

* * *

Randi let his hands rest on the table, palms down; at least that way they wouldn’t shake. He seemed to have developed a tremor. It was very irritating.

“Treven,” he said. “Thank you for coming.” Not that there was a chance in the world that anyone would defy the King’s personal invitation, of course, but the lad _was_ missing class.

Treven nodded to him, solemnly. It should have been an odd expression on him, he was normally smiling, but it somehow suited his face just as well. He wore a tunic and trews in the same cut as Whites, but in grey – it was the new uniform being phased in for the trainees, apparently. Randi didn’t much like the colour, but it could have been worse. The Healers’ Collegium student uniform was sickly shade of pale green.

 _Really, Healers are the ones who should wear red, it wouldn’t show blood._ That had always confused him when he was young.

Focus. Treven was watching him patiently, blue eyes bright and alert. Tall for his age, golden hair tied back in a tail; gods, he looked more like a fairer version of Tantras every year. _Must be awfully popular with the girls._ Good-looking, friendly, clever, a future King…

Of course, the last part might be a little intimidating.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Randi said. Look down at the notes between his hands; he had rehearsed this a dozen times, trying to find the right mixture of honesty and reassurance. “First of all, I need you to understand that we are making an exception in telling you at all. I know you can keep a secret, but if you agree to hear this, you can’t _ever_ let it slip. Any of it. Not to your roommate, not to a girl you fancy – not even to another Herald, unless I tell you personally that it’s all right. I imagine you don’t much like lying, but for this, if anyone asks, you lie to their face. Can you promise that for me?”

Treven ducked his head. “I give you my oath, King Randale.”

“Oh, will you _please_ call me Randi?” He had been trying to break the boy of that habit for years, but Treven was so painfully polite; he seemed to fall back on formal courtesy when he was nervous, though he showed few other signs of shyness. “Thank you. Now, another thing – what I’m about to say is going to sound very frightening. I really, really don’t want you to worry about this yet. It isn’t your burden to carry. I have a very skilled set of Heralds and advisors, and we’re doing everything that needs to be done. But it may be on you someday, which is why you deserve to know.”

Treven nodded again. He looked pale, but his breathing was steady. “I understand. I’m honoured that you have so much trust in me.”

Randi felt his eyebrows tugging up. “You may feel differently in a moment.” He leaned forward. “There’s a war coming. Or, possibly, something even more complicated.”

Treven blinked twice, but that was his only visible reaction. He waited.

“We were warned by a Foresight vision that Herald Vanyel has been having for sixteen years,” Randi went on. “There is a mage north of the Ice Wall Mountains who calls himself Leareth, though others sometimes refer to him as Master Dark. In the vision, Vanyel is riding north to destroy him and his army. We know quite a lot about this man, actually, because by some twist of fate–” or the will of the gods, but best not to get into that in too much detail, “–he and Vanyel share the Foresight dream, and they are able to speak to one another.”

This time, Treven swayed back, not quite gasping. His eyes never left Randi’s face.

“He is an extremely skilled mage,” Randi said, “and willing to use blood-power. It seems his original plan was to invade and conquer Valdemar, to form the backbone of the empire he wishes to build. At this time, he expresses interest in negotiating with us,” well, with Vanyel at least, “but we are not at all sure whether we can trust him at his word.” He leaned back in his chair. “We believe that Herald Vanyel is powerful enough to kill him in direct combat, if he is willing to die in the process. For obvious reasons, that is a last resort. So – I don’t know what’s coming, lad, and I very much hope that we find the answers long before you take the throne. But it’s possible you will end up inheriting this war. I’m sorry.”

Treven had gone very pale, but he nodded. Swallowed. “Thank you for telling me.”

He was taking it calmly enough, but the expression in his eyes… _Is that how I looked when Van told me?_

Eight years ago – gods, had it really been that long? Sitting in a room much like this one, Shavri at his side. _I’m not afraid_ , Vanyel had said. _I know what a Final Strike feels like. It doesn’t hurt._

Words that had haunted Randi’s nightmares for months.

And now he was passing those nightmares on to a boy not much older than Jisa. What a world.

* * *

“May I?” Moondance held up the comb.

Vanyel opened his mouth to say that he was perfectly capable of brushing his own hair, and then closed it and nodded.

Melody was right; he felt a lot more human after bathing, shaving, and putting on clean clothes. Not Whites, that still felt too painful. It was late afternoon now, the light low and golden. Some of the glue had left his head – which was unfortunate, in a way, because it left room for thoughts he had been trying to avoid.

Leareth was still out there, and they had nothing resembling a plan.

The cold unease sharpened, like broken glass in his belly. He had been terrified for so long, it was starting to slide into the background, as he forgot what it was like not to be afraid.

It must have felt like that at first when he realized that the dream was Foresight, and later on when the conversations began. He had forgotten that. Each time, it had become the new normal, but it was hard to imagine _this_ ever feeling ordinary.

He reached out with a pleading mindtouch. _:Moondance, I don’t know what to do:_

Which was a very unclear statement, but the overtones must have carried more. _:To fight your Leareth?:_ Moondance guessed.

Vanyel winced as the comb slid through a particularly dense tangle. _:Any of it:_ It felt hard, even now, to bring the words out into the open. _:I don’t know if we should be fighting him. And I don’t know how to find out. How to make a principled decision:_

 _:It would be simpler if we knew him to be a monster:_ Sympathy in Moondance’s mindvoice. _:So often the world is not that simple, brother. Never so black and white:_

No, that was true. Except to ‘Lendel – the path here would have been entirely clear to him.

 _:And yet:_ Moondance sent, _:though we live in a world of greys, not all paths are equal, and sometimes a choice can be clear. I am quite certain that your Leareth must be stopped. Not entirely certain, but enough:_

 _:He’s not my Leareth:_ Vanyel pressed a hand to his stomach, breathing through the fear transmuted to nausea. Trying to find the words to explain. _:I’m not certain enough, Moondance. Not quite. Damn it, but he’s right. That the way things are now is completely unacceptable:_

 _:Is he?:_ No judgement, only curiosity. _:I will not deny there are many problems in this world, and yet… I do think it contains more joy than suffering. And so it would not do, to take any risk of its destruction, however small:_ A pause. _:Or even to risk perturbing it. Things are not perfect, now, yet they are stable, and many more large changes are for the worse than for the better. Safer to work slowly, I think. We will not repair the world in our lifetimes, and neither will our children, yet we will make progress. Perhaps someday…:_

Was that right? It was certainly what the Tayledras would believe, Vanyel thought. It fit perfectly. And yet. _:Leareth’s been around for almost two thousand years:_ he sent. _:If the pattern he saw was of things getting gradually but steadily better, I don’t think he would be doing this:_ Arguably the world had been far better to live in before the Mage Wars, for one.

Moondance must have guessed what he was thinking, or sensed it, though Vanyel hadn’t put the words into formal Mindspeech. _:Leareth admits he was at fault, for that destruction. Has he not learned from this?:_

Ouch. A fair point.

 _:It is the greatest hubris:_ Moondance sent, slowly, _:to think that one knows better than the gods:_

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, a plucked chord. Dissonant, in Vanyel’s chest. Moondance had meant to state a point of agreement, surely, but he had named the deep opposition Vanyel felt, pinning it down.

 _:Is it?:_ he sent. _:Because I’ve never exactly felt the gods were on my side:_

There was a long silence.

 _:I do not know:_ Moondance sent finally, shaky. _:The gods are greater beings, and they work at large scales. Perhaps they cannot care for single mortals, in the way we would conceive of it, when they hold the entire world. I believe this…:_ His breath sighed out. _:And yet. I think of a day, sixteen winters ago. The day I learned of your dream, brother. I saw something:_

There was an aching tension in Moondance’s mindvoice. Whatever it was, Vanyel thought, it cut close. And he had to know. _:What did you see?:_

_:It was not clear. I do not have the true Gift of Foresight, as you do. I saw…a pattern. A tale that fit. That what had befallen you was not a natural thing – that the gods, perhaps our own Goddess, had chosen sides, and meddled. I told my shay’kreth’ashke that I misliked the cost. That I was not sure how to feel about any god that would do such a thing:_

Vanyel felt his spine stiffen. _:You never told me:_

 _:I did not wish to cause you pain:_ Sorrow and regret in the overtones. _:Perhaps I was wrong, to keep it from you:_

 _You were only trying to protect me_. Still. Keeping secrets had only ever led to problems. _:Thank you for telling me now:_ he sent. _:I…should tell you some things. I spoke to your Goddess:_

_:I know. I think I remember the day, though you were not sure at the time. Our Wingsister spoke of it to my shay’kreth’ashke:_

Right. He had mentioned it to Savil during that first, comparatively gentle interrogation. _:That was the time:_ he confirmed. _:After we moved the Vale. I didn’t remember it. Or only flashes. For years, until it started causing worse and worse problems, and Melody made me go back in and talk to Her again:_ Giving him back those memories, but it was still hard to think about, to put together the fragments of a dozen alternate pasts, things no mortal had ever been meant to see. _:Pretty much confirmed She had something to do with, well, all of it. She was very cagey. I said… I asked whether I was supposed to fight him or ally with him, at that point I had no idea, and she wouldn’t give an answer:_

 _:There are truths that mortal minds cannot hold:_ Moondance set down the comb and moved to perch on the arm of the sofa. _:It was perhaps a foolish thing you did, to demand those answers:_

 _:Oh, I know. Trust me:_ He turned, looking into Moondance’s eyes, his quiet solemn face. _:I’ve never been very good at turning down knowledge. All information is worth having:_

 _:Perhaps:_ Moondance seemed dubious.

Try to wrap himself around the seething confusion in his chest. _:That’s why I’m scared:_ Vanyel sent. _:Because it’s not just about Leareth. He’s only a man. There are…other forces, more than one, pulling in different directions, and I don’t know what they want. Or if I want the same things. What am I supposed to do?:_

He saw the startled look in Moondance’s eyes, well-concealed. _:I do not know:_ his friend sent, after a long moment. _:We are only mortals, and we cannot know all of the answers:_

Maybe not, but that attitude seemed like giving up to him. _Just because something is impossible doesn’t mean you stop trying._

Moondance reached for his hand, squeezing. _:You are not alone, brother. We will face this together:_

One note of hope, in a sea of despair and uncertainty. Even if it unsettled him, hearing Moondance speak about this – even if some small voice in him was questioning whether they were really on the same side.

Some of the strange openness of the Work Room was still there, the pink-tinged memory of trust. Even if he couldn’t be sure of anything else, he knew that Moondance was his friend, and would be there.

 _:We needs not find all the answers today:_ Moondance added. _:Now is the time to rest, and gather your strength again:_

There was a knock. Moondance slipped down from the sofa-arm and padded out of the bedroom towards the door, then an exclamation. “Oh! Jisa, Wingsister, it is wonderful to see you.”

“You too! Papa told me you were here, I went to look in your guest-suite but you weren’t there!” Pattering footsteps. “Uncle Van, Melody said I ought to bring you some supper. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to have it in here or out in the stables, so I got a picnic.” She bounced through the bedroom door, set down a hamper at the foot of his bed, and practically jumped on him.

“Heya, pet.” He returned the hug, ruffled her hair. “It’s good to see you too.” She was getting so big; she had almost knocked him clean over.

“I like that tunic!” she said brightly, letting go of him. “You look very nice. Well?”

“Give me a moment, pet, please.” He closed his eyes. _Center and ground._ It was very nice to see her, those words hadn’t been a polite lie, but she had startled him and his heart was still racing.

 _:’Fandes?:_ he reached out.

She was there in an instant, surging back into full rapport. _:I see you have a visitor?:_

 _:I think she’s hinting that she might want to visit you as well. Would you be up for a picnic in the stables?:_ It was almost sunset; he had been giving her space for four or five candlemarks now, and he missed her desperately.

_:Of course, love. I’ve missed Jisa as well:_

“Let’s go to the stables,” he said out loud.

“We’re going out for a picnic, Moondance,” Jisa added cheerfully. “Do you want to come? I brought lots of food.”

Moondance smiled warmly at her. “Perhaps for a little while, and then I must needs go to my _shay’kreth’ashke.”_

Jisa beamed. “Let’s go, then! Uncle Van, where’s your cloak?”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Lissa thrust the steaming cup under Vanyel’s nose.

After a long moment, he took it, and then looked up at her, shaking his head to dislodge a hank of hair that had fallen across his eyes. “Sorry. Still waking up.”

He did seem foggy, even after a full ten candlemarks of sleep, in his own bed this time. _Oh, Van._ Damn it but she was worried about him. There had been some improvement since a few days ago, she thought, but he was still nothing like his normal self. _What’s going on with you?_ Damned if she could guess. Melody had told her not to poke him about it, and Van hadn’t volunteered anything.

It was hard to watch – but the thought of leaving him to face it alone was worse, and honestly, it was the most pleasant sentry-duty she had ever sat. Cozy by the fire, a padded chair, and safe behind shields. _Hellfires, I’m probably safer in the same room as Van than anywhere else._ She imagined someone else might have pointed out that a disoriented mage, waking from a nightmare, might blast her by accident, but Lissa knew better.

Muffled, there was a knock on the door. Vanyel twitched.

“I’ll get it.” Lissa stood, bouncing on her bare feet. “Stay there.”

It was Savil, and Melody.

“Morning,” Lissa said. She swallowed the yawn that threatened. “Come in. Tea?”

“Oh, thank you.” Melody darted in around her. “Is Van awake?”

“Mostly.” Lissa headed for the sideboard. “Do you need to talk to him?”

“You as well,” Savil said, brushing past. “Come on, let’s all sit down.”

Vanyel didn’t, honestly, have enough furniture for four people to sit comfortably in his suite. Lissa took the chair from his desk and carried it into the bedroom; Savil was already sitting on the bed with him, hand on his arm, and she thought they were having a Mindspeech-conference, both of their expressions gone distant.

Melody reappeared, holding two more mismatched teacups – that had to be every cup Van owned. 

“Well,” Savil said briskly. “Lissa. We’re having a meeting with the Senior Heraldic Circle tonight, to discuss…some things that we just learned. You’re invited. You ought to get the formal note for it later today.”

“Oh.” Lissa felt her eyes narrow. “All right.” _What’s going on?_ Savil’s voice was very controlled, giving nothing away, but it had to be related to whatever was wrong with Van, and she couldn’t think how that could merit a meeting of the Senior Circle.

“In the meantime,” Melody added, passing a cup to Savil and then settling into the wicker chair, “we thought maybe you deserve to know some more of the context. Vanyel?”

Her brother’s eyes turned toward her. She couldn’t read his expression at all.

“I had a fight with Yfandes,” he said dully. “About…things. Don’t feel like explaining right now. She left. For five days.”

“Oh.” It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach and dumped a bucket of ice-water over her head at the same time. “Van, I…” What was she even supposed to say? “Gods. That’s awful.” She couldn’t imagine it. Or didn’t want to, maybe. Damn it, she should have guessed. “Are you…?”

“I’m all right now, mostly.” He shook his head. “I really wasn’t, before. But it helped, that you were there.”

“I’m glad. Van…” She set down her cup on the windowsill, and headed for the bed. He let her put her arms around him. “Van, damn it, I don’t understand your bad luck. Why do all the worst things happen to you? I’m sorry.” She felt hot, her body thrumming with something like anger, and shame. _Why can’t I protect you from the world?_

A weak snort, not quite laughter. “Guess the gods are displeased with me.” The words were deliberately casual, but she didn’t think it was entirely a joke.

Savil cleared her throat. “Another thing. We have some visitors. I’ve told you about my friends Starwind and Moondance?”

Lissa’s eyes raced over Vanyel’s head to the Tayledras tapestry hung by the window. “Of course.” It took her brain a moment to catch up. “…Wait. They’re _here_? In Valdemar?”

“In the guest wing of the Palace, to be precise.” There was almost a smirk in Savil’s voice. “They’re to be formally introduced in the throne-room later today, and to the Council tomorrow morning. In the meantime, perhaps you ought to meet them.”

“Oh!” A thrill in her stomach. She let go of her brother and turned to look at Savil, who was in fact smirking slightly. “Could I?” Vanyel had talked about them so many times.

“It would be their pleasure to meet their Wingbrother’s sister, I’m sure.” Definitely smug. “They’ll be coming to my suite for breakfast in about half a candlemark, if you’re able to stay awake that long.”

“I can for that!” Lissa was trying hard not to vibrate. “I’m so excited to meet both of them. Is Brightstar here too?”

“No, sadly. He stayed behind to cover Moondance’s work.”

Surprised, she tried to think back, counting the years in her head. “Wait, how old is he? Isn’t he only twelve or thirteen?” 

“Fourteen,” Vanyel jumped in. “Practically an adult by their standards.”

“Right. Well, I hope I get to meet him someday.” Vanyel had talked about him so much.

* * *

“Thank you for coming, Van.” Randi gestured at the chair. “Melody, you too. Sit down, please. Something to drink?” He gestured at the decanter, and the teapot and tray beside it. There was a cup of watered wine in front of him already, half-drunk; he wasn’t expecting this to be an easy conversation.

Vanyel reached for the wine. Melody shot him a faintly disapproving look, but said nothing as she poured tea for herself.

He looked well enough, Randi thought. Tired, but who wasn’t right now? He wore clean clothes – not Whites – and his hair was combed and tied back neatly.

“Savil probably mentioned to you that we’re meeting with the rest of the Senior Circle this afternoon,” Randi said. “I’m not asking you to come – I know that’s too much, right now – but I did want to check in with you first.”

Vanyel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He set down the wine-cup. “Randi. I would rather be there.”

Which was exactly what he had expected. He laid his hands down. “Van, I don’t want to delay this any longer, and you aren’t up for it yet.” It would be stressful and upsetting for him, and Melody had asked him to please, _please_ stop subjecting Vanyel to stressful things. Besides, if he spent half of it curled up in a ball in the corner, the rest of Randi’s senior Heralds weren’t going to find that very reassuring.

“You’re not sure whether you trust me.” Vanyel’s mouth twisted, and he turned his eyes away, staring intently at the angle of the windowsill.

“It’s not about that.” Or not mostly. Tantras had objected to Vanyel’s presence on those grounds, of course, but if it were only that, Randi liked to think he would have overruled Tran. “Van, listen.” He had rehearsed the words he was about to say in his head, over and over, and he still wasn’t sure if they were right. “I know you’ve carried this alone for, well, a lot longer than I’ve been King. It doesn’t have to be just your burden anymore. We still need your help, more than words can convey, but. In the end, it’s my job, to take final responsibility for Valdemar. All right?”

Silver eyes lifted, boring into him. Vanyel licked his lips. “I don’t…” He closed his eyes. “Thank you, Randi. That means a lot, and I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be doing this completely on my own anymore. But that’s not how it works. You can’t actually absolve me of my moral duty to do the right thing.”

“I know. You can’t walk away.” Randi looked down at his knees. “I can’t give you permission to switch off your conscience. I wouldn’t want to do that.” He tried to lighten his voice. “I just wish I could order you to take a break from it, sometimes. Let other people bear the weight once in a while.”

Melody at least seemed to approve of that; she granted him a fractional nod. Vanyel was still frowning.

“I wanted to meet now so I can go over the agenda with you,” Randi went on. “And take notes on anything specific you would like me to say.” Again, Tran hadn’t been pleased about giving Vanyel that input, but it hadn’t been as hard as he had expected to convince him.

Vanyel went on staring into the distance for a long time, but finally nodded. “All right.” A crooked smile, as his eyes turned back to Randi. “Figure this is easier than a full meeting, so thank you.”

Randi tried his best to smile back. “You’re welcome. Before we get started – Van, how are you holding up? Really?”

Vanyel opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked to the window and back, and then closed his eyes. “Not very well,” he admitted quietly. “I’m exhausted and my emotions are all over the place. Melody says that’s normal and I need time to find my balance again, but…it’s hard.”

Randi blinked. _What?_ Van never answered questions like that honestly. Something had shifted between them, apparently deeper than he had realized at first.

And he wasn’t at all sure how to respond. He took a steadying breath. “That makes sense. I want to give you that time, and I think we can. Obviously we’re going to need to come to you for more information, there’s a lot you didn’t write down, but, well, none of this is an emergency on the scale of days.” Even if part of him wanted to scream that it was. The uncertainty of it all made his head hurt, just thinking about blew aside the haze covering the bottomless chasm under them – but it wasn’t like Vanyel had answers there either.

Vanyel raised an eyebrow. “It’s frightening, isn’t it? Not knowing.”

Randi didn’t bother to suppress his snort of laughter. “Yes.” He took a sip of wine, gathering his thoughts. “Honestly, Van, I don’t know what we should do. Neither of us is sure that you even can defeat Leareth – I mean, that wasn’t a certainty even before, and I imagine at this point he’s taken precautions against your cornering him with Final Strike – and, it seems like you’re not sure you want to. Which was a lot to take, at first, but I do understand. I don’t agree, and yet, I can see why you might think Leareth has a point, and…I think it does you credit, that you’re willing to consider it.” _The gods know I’m not that mentally flexible._ It had never seemed like that could be a weakness, before.

But Yfandes had come back; she hadn’t repudiated Vanyel over it. And, after a week to absorb it, Randi could finally admit that it wasn’t, really, in conflict with the Vanyel he had thought he knew. Who had always been willing to look at bizarre hypotheticals, hold them up and carry them to their conclusion.

 _I thought that was a strength before._ Like double vision, sliding in and out.

Moondance’s words echoed in his head. _I wish you to see that there is space, here, for both of those worlds._

There was something else he wanted to say out loud, a thought he hadn’t shared with anyone else yet. Not even Shavri. “Van, if I’m honest… I’ve felt some sympathy for him, a time or two. If we assume he really did seek out immortality however many centuries ago in order to make the world a better place, which I’m far from convinced of, but if he _did_ – well, I can’t even imagine what horrors he’s seen since then. And what cost would start to seem worth paying, if there was even a chance of fixing that.”

Vanyel’s hand, fingers tapping the table, froze. He glanced over at Melody, then back. “Randi, I don’t – I mean – that’s a convenient world. Where we can say he’s wrong, not because he’s a heartless monster, but precisely _because_ he cares so much, because the state of the world is too much to bear, and he’s not rational about the risks anymore. Maybe that’s true. Or maybe it’s more complicated. Maybe he really can set that aside, and just – do the math. When we can’t, because we’re blinded by principles.”

“You can’t do math with people’s lives.” The words had slipped out before Randi had a chance to check if he thought they were true.

“Really?” There was a bitter irony in Vanyel’s voice. “Gods, that’s exactly what ‘Fandes said, before she…left. Randi, I mean, we _do_. Every day. During the war. Invading Sunhame. You knew the Guard would have casualties, in that battle, and you thought it would be worth it. To save more lives in the future.”

“That’s different.” And then Randi made himself look towards the window, and really consider it. How was it different? Thinking about it felt slippery, a morass of confusion. “Every Guardsman signed up for that life. For that risk. Slaughtering innocents for blood-power – that’s different.”

“Maybe.” Vanyel shook his head. “I’m thinking of all the examples Seldasen gives. The woman ill with plague, trying to break into the fortress. I mean, it feels _horrible_ , that you might choose to kill her to save hundreds of your soldiers, but I can’t say it’s _wrong_. Only that it’s a complicated question. And that sometimes our intuitions are wrong. Sometimes the way the numbers fall out is different, and the numbers _matter._ Because it’s not just numbers – it’s real people’s lives.”

There was a panicky confusion in Randi’s chest. “Murdering ten million people doesn’t seem that complicated to me.” His voice came out with a harsh edge.

“No, it doesn’t seem so, does it?” Vanyel’s voice was oddly gentle. “But I would’ve said the same about using blood-power in Sunhame, fifteen years ago, and – I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it, I still think it was worth it.”

“Hey. Can we pause a minute?” Melody held up a hand. “I’m glad you’re getting into this, I think, but I’m not sure you’re actually hearing each other. It feels like you’re having two different conversations.”

Yes, that was exactly how it had felt. _Damn it, Van, what do you want from me?_ And then a catch in his thoughts, something Randi hadn’t realized had become habit. _Anchor in your body. What are you feeling, here-and-now?_

He hadn’t even noticed, but he could feel his heart racing, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth. He was…not angry, exactly, it was more complicated than that. There was the fear, that had been with him day and night for a week, and layered onto it was a sort of grasping franticness. Desperation. _I just want a plan._

“I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “Guess I was getting caught up in my own feelings about all of it. That I hate the uncertainty, and – and it feels like I’m failing in my duty to Valdemar, if I don’t take some kind of action _right now_. Even though I literally just said it’s not that kind of emergency.”

“Good,” Melody said. “Van?”

Vanyel closed his eyes. “I’m not sure… I guess I was wanting something from you, Randi, saying all those things – shoving it in your face – but I wasn’t saying what. I’m not asking you to agree with me. Really and truly.” He took a deep breath. “Just, it seems like maybe you’re answering on reflex, and then I feel like you aren’t listening to what I’m actually saying.”

Randi winced. That was a good description of exactly what he had been doing. “I’m sorry.”

Melody glanced back and forth between them. “Can I jump in? It does you both credit that you’re willing to try, but I’m not sure this is the best time for that particular conversation to happen. Randi, it’s still awfully fresh for you, you have a lot of emotional reactions to sort through, and I think that makes it hard to consider hypotheticals. And, Van, I know how badly you want to talk this over with someone, but I don’t you’re ready. Not with Randi, at least – anytime he disagrees with you, it’s going to throw you right back to the Work Room two days ago, and that’s going to make it hard to properly think about. I do think it’s important to hash out, and you should come back to it. Later.”

Randi tried not to sigh too visibly with relief. “Melody, can you come to all my meetings? You’re good at this.”

“No. I have an actual job, you know.” But she was smiling. “Let’s stick to figuring out the meeting later. What are the relevant questions?”

Randi leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First. Van, I _don’t_ want us to immediately go off on war-footing, or make any irreversible decisions. I do think we need to start thinking about preparing for a war, more than we already have been. In secret, as much as possible, because I very much don’t want Leareth hearing about it through a spy-report – it could spook him into attacking. And…it seems remote, but I want to leave open the possibility of negotiating with him somehow.”

Even if Leareth’s plan was monstrous, it seemed just barely plausible that he _was_ motivated by trying to improve the world, and his trust in Vanyel ran deep – he had been willing to reveal a plan that he had to know would send most people running in the opposite directly screaming. Maybe, conceivably, Vanyel could talk him down to something a little more reasonable.

It was a waste, really – someone that clever, skilled, and experienced could do _so much_ , if they weren’t hell-bent on breeding ten million people in order to murder them for a dark ritual.

Tran would disagree. _There are some views, some people, that it’s not safe to negotiate with_. And Randi couldn’t, really, say that was wrong – but Tran wasn’t the one who had to figure out how to defeat an immortal mage, who had been amassing his forces and stealing mage-gifted children for his army since before any of them were born.

None of it was comfortable to think about, but Randi didn’t see that he had a choice.

“That…all sounds pretty reasonable,” Vanyel said slowly. “You’ll need to get everyone on the same page with the not-immediately-going-to-war part, which might be hard. Keiran in particular, I imagine…”

* * *

The air was still quite cold, but it felt refreshing. Invigorating. Vanyel wasn’t cold inside, anymore; he could feel the heat of Yfandes’ body soaking into him like a bath. Melody had persuaded him to go out for a ride, after his meeting with Randi. _You’re a bundle of nerves,_ she had said, and slapped him on the back, suggesting that some time outdoors and exercise would help his mood.

Three days that his Companion had been back, and it was the first time the two of them had been alone together.

Yfandes picked her way delicately along the slush-coated path. _:Kernos’ horns, love, I’m tired of winter:_

 _:I know:_ It was warmer today than yesterday, but the sky was dull overcast grey, and it felt very dreary. _:Can’t imagine it was the best time of year to go wandering about in the wilderness:_

 _:No:_ A sad burst of mental laughter. _:Maybe it was for the better. Motivated me to get it over with quickly:_

He stroked her neck, tangling his gloved fingers in her mane, and tried to push back the ache that rose. Not jealousy, quite, or even bitterness; he wasn’t sure what to name the feeling. Even now, the place where his mind touched Yfandes felt, not wrong, but not entirely right either.

Nonetheless. _:I love you, ‘Fandes:_ It felt like he could never say it enough times.

_:I love you too, Chosen:_

The obscure pain and off-balance feeling was still there, but much less so today – he could lean towards the light that was her more easily.

 _:Is your leg better?:_ he sent, stalling on the more important topics. Yfandes had badly bruised her hock at some point during her solitary wandering, but he thought she wasn’t favouring it quite so much anymore.

_:Much better, thank you. The poultice you made up really helped:_

_:I’m glad:_ He had asked the stablehand for help, but done most of it himself; he had been feeling weirdly possessive. _I didn’t want anyone else touching her._ Even if he sometimes hadn’t wanted to go near her himself.

Push through the reluctance. _:We have a lot to talk about:_ he sent. And they had time, for once. He had approximately nothing else to do with himself.

 _:…Yes:_ There was a hesitation there as well, he thought. Different from her previous reticence – more human, somehow. Not the strange Companion caginess, but just the sort of discomfort he might feel, around an idea that was painful to think about.

 _:I’ll go first:_ Sometimes you had to lay yourself open, first, had to show trust to earn it. _That’s what I learned two days ago._ That conversation in the Work Room, and the fallout from it, was still a confused blur in his mind – it was one of the many things he wanted to talk through with Yfandes fully, now that he had the energy for it – but a few things felt clearer now.

Even so, it was hard to know where to start.

 _:It’s strange:_ he sent. _:Feels like the last week’s been longer than the year before that:_

 _:I’m sorry:_ Chagrin in her mindvoice.

He sent a wordless acknowledgement. _:I’m not sure it’s bad:_ he sent. Searched for the right words. _:I mean, it feels like the first chance in a long time I’ve had to slow down. Take a step back from everything. Actually think:_

 _:There is that:_ A gentle acknowledgement. _:We weren’t thinking about the future much, were we? That was probably a mistake:_

There was an odd nakedness in her mindvoice. It was the first time she had brought it out into the open between them.

 _:No, we weren’t. Gods, I remember thinking–:_ It felt like years ago, but it must have been, what, last week? _As long as it was off in the indeterminate future, it wasn’t fully real, and he could afford not to make a decision. Later. Always later. The future would come hurtling towards him no matter what he did._

His shields were fully open to her, and he felt her react to the memory. Confusion, guilt. Sympathy. _:I know, love. I remember thinking the same, sometimes:_

And neither of them had ever brought it to the other. _How did we live like that for so many years?_

 _:I wonder what Lissa’s going to think:_ he sent. A few candlemarks from now, she would be finding out all of it – and for the first time, not like Savil and Randi and the others, who had at least already known Leareth existed. Would she be angry that he had gone so long without telling her?

Sixteen years. Half his life.

 _:I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet:_ he added. _:What it’s going to mean, that Randi knows. What’s going to change:_ Take a deep breath, try to quell the panicky pressure that rose like storm-runoff in his chest. There were going to be so many consequences, and he didn’t want to face any of them, but he didn’t have a choice.

 _:Reckon it hasn’t sunk in for him either:_ Yfandes sent. It was hard to guess at the emotion that leaked through, muddy tangled overtones. _:Van…:_

_:What is it, love?:_

_:I’m sorry:_ A pause. _:I advised you not to tell anyone. Maybe that was my first mistake:_

 _:Taver as well:_ he reminded her. _:The blue place…:_

And he felt her flinch, confusion, an abyss opening behind her. _:Van, I don’t know. Whatever’s behind the Web, it’s the domain of a god. Or gods. I, just…:_

He waited. She was thinking hard, trying to wrestle something out into the light, and it seemed important not to interrupt.

 _:I don’t think I trust it anymore:_ she finished. _:We don’t know what they’re working towards, and… Well, Leareth is right about one think. The world would look different if the gods shared our values:_

The words seemed to hang in the air between them. Heavy. Something too vast to look at head-on.

He waited, but it didn’t seem like she had anything more, not yet.

 _:You’ve changed:_ he sent. _:Before, I don’t think you could–:_

 _:Talk about the gods that way? Think it?:_ Another bitter mental chuckle. _:I know. There was a bright line – I was so sure of something, but now I can’t remember what it was. Maybe it was never anything real. Just a feeling:_ A long pause. _:Leareth said that Companions are god-touched beings:_ There was pain in the words, but he felt how she held herself open to it. Not looking away. _:Van, I mean, he is right. I knew that, I’ve known it for years, and I never thought about what it meant. Did you?:_

 _:Sometimes:_ In the privacy behind his shields. _:Not often. It was uncomfortable:_ It must have been even more so for her.

 _:It hurt so much to look at:_ A quiet whimper. _:Gods, Van, I’m sorry. I know it was worse for you:_

 _:Was it? I’m not sure:_ Strange, how he could think about it without flinching. Much. It had been awful, but even trying to look at it from her perspective… _:I had Savil there. And Melody. You were really alone. For the first time:_ The Companions were always in contact with each other.

He felt her surprise, and…not quite gratitude, but something shaped like it. _:Yes. That part was harder than I expected:_

Vanyel stroked her neck, unable to think of any words that felt appropriate.

 _:I felt like such a coward:_ Yfandes sent. _:Melody said I wasn’t. That it took courage:_

 _:She’s right:_ That much reassurance, he could give. _:You could have just repudiated me:_ Like tossing a stone into a pond, the words sinking into the snow. It felt amazing, how calmly he could say it now. _:You didn’t. And you came back:_ In the end, wasn’t that all that mattered?

 _:I couldn’t trust my own mind:_ So much helpless confusion in the overtones. _:I can’t trust what I am anymore, Van. Because I don’t trust whatever force made me that way:_

 _:Oh, ‘Fandes:_ There was an echoed ache in his chest. _:I’m sorry:_

 _:And I have to be able to look at reality:_ she added. _:That’s what you always said. All information is worth having:_ A long pause. _:So I did. I stared at it. And…it did break something, but maybe it needed to be broken, for me to be able to think straight at all:_

He sent a silent acknowledgement, and waited.

 _:You were right:_ she sent. _:That sometimes our first intuitions aren’t correct. The world is complicated. We can’t be totally sure that Leareth is in the wrong, and it’s a very, very important question to answer, so we ought to take some time to think about it. The way I reacted was on reflex, and it was wrong:_ Tentative, almost shy. _:Will you forgive me?:_

 _:You don’t need my forgiveness, ‘Fandes. You were trying to do the right thing. But yes, of course I forgive you:_ He closed his eyes. _:It’s a moot point now. We were talking about whether to tell Randi at the time, and, well, that choice was taken out of our hands:_ In the worst possible way, but even so… _:Maybe that’s a good thing:_

Surprise. _:You think so?:_

 _:I don’t know yet:_ All he had was a feeling, nebulous, hard to trace down. _:I mean, the reason I didn’t want to tell him, ultimately it came down to not trusting his judgement and reasoning. Not expecting him to be able to reason clearly about it. I was afraid he would immediately jump to a conclusion, and there would be no way to even talk about the fact that Leareth might be right, or that maybe we shouldn’t fight him. I desperately wanted to be able to tell someone, just so I could have help thinking about it – but I didn’t expect to get that help from Randi, or Savil, or anyone really:_

 _:…Even from me:_ Apology in her mindvoice. _:I’m sorry, Van. I left you to bear all of it alone:_

 _:You came back:_ He tried to send reassurance, even though the guilt in her mindvoice was drawing out echoes, bitterness and remembered pain. They had been over all of that already, so many times. _:Anyway. I think maybe I should have a rule-of-thumb about secrets. That they’re usually a bad idea, and I shouldn’t trust my reasoning at face value, if I’m tempted to keep something to myself. Like Sunhame. I never even considered telling Randi, and afterwards, I realized I hadn’t thought it through at all – I’d been rationalizing, and trying to not-think about it, because it would’ve been messy and stressful in the short run. But I should have told him. In that case, it felt so obvious afterward. Do you agree?:_

_:Sunhame was different:_

_:Because the blue place didn’t have any opinion on it?:_ he guessed. _:Maybe. But, I mean, everyone reacted a lot more reasonably than I expected, to this. It wasn’t that bad:_

 _:Really? Melody said everyone was furious with you. That people thought you were a traitor:_ Rising anger, fierce protectiveness.

 _:Which wasn’t unreasonable, given what they knew. I can understand:_ Again, he was amazed that he could even think those words. The panic was there, but it was under the surface and he could ride it out. Vanyel leaned back in the saddle, stretching. _:Even so, maybe it’s better to have it in the open. ‘Fandes… We don’t have to solve this alone:_ How had he forgotten that, for so many years? What it meant to be a Herald – not to be alone, to be part of a fellowship of other people who shared his values.

Maybe. Sort of. It had been a strange experience, hearing everyone else’s statement of it, their mind laid bare in the strange openness of the Work Room. Echoes he recognized, but different for everyone.

_What if they’re not willing to understand?_

Then maybe they weren’t. But, then again, maybe they were, and he was the one who was in the wrong. All along, so much of what he had wanted was someone to check his reasoning.

 _:Maybe:_ Relief and reluctance mixed. _:Van, I don’t know… What you just said, about why you didn’t want to tell Randi. You’re not wrong. Even if he didn’t react as badly as you expected. How much do you actually trust Randi to make the right choices here? Or Savil?:_

 _:Not entirely, I guess:_ The thought hurt. He wasn’t sure if it felt like he was betraying Randi, or if he was the one who felt betrayed _._ Maybe it was both. _:I shouldn’t trust myself entirely, either. I know I’m fallible. So are they, but there’s a better chance we’ll at least be making different mistakes, and be able to catch each other’s errors. And overall make better choices, if we can talk it out enough to get on the same page. Like I did with Savil, about Sunhame:_

 _It is often worth some effort to ensure that you will have access to trusted advisors, in times of crisis,_ Leareth had said to him once. He hadn’t put that effort in, before, which was how he had ended up in a position where literally no one had any of the context they would need to help. Looking back, maybe that had been his first – no, not his first by far, but one of a very long set of mistakes.

He had thought he would always have Yfandes, but he hadn’t been bringing everything to her either. Maybe if he had, his response to Leareth’s final revelation wouldn’t have come as such a shock to her.

Though maybe the shock had been necessary – it was the unresolvable conflict, tearing her apart, that had given her the impetus she needed to free her mind from its strange, inhuman barriers. They could never have had this conversation otherwise.

 _:I don’t know:_ Yfandes jumped in. _:Van…:_ And there was the feeling of teetering on a precipice. Words that, once said, she wouldn’t ever be able to take back. _:Chosen, I’m not sure that you could or should have trusted me, then. There was something wrong in my mind – no, wrong isn’t even the right word, it was meant to be there. I was built that way. There were thoughts I couldn’t think, so I couldn’t be what you needed:_ A heavy pause. _:I hope that isn’t true anymore, but I’m not sure. You shouldn’t rely on only me:_ The grief and regret in her mindvoice cut like a blade, and he pushed back without thinking. _:You need others to trust. I can’t be your only rock:_

Vanyel closed his eyes against the tears that came unbidden. Some part of him wanted to argue with her; it hurt, to feel that pain in her; but he couldn’t deny she was right.

 _:I’m lucky to have even you:_ he sent instead. _:So far as I can tell, Leareth has no one:_ Except for him – and he had, in fact, blocked the dreams and gone running the instant Leareth revealed his full plan.

If Leareth knew he had done it, it had surely hurt his feelings. One of the least important things to be worrying about, right now, but still.

 _:You don’t know for sure. Maybe he does have advisors:_ But he felt Yfandes’ agreement. _:Van, what if that’s the problem? If he doesn’t have any checks on his thinking… Maybe he really and truly believes he’s doing the right thing, that he understands all the risks and is making a reasoned choice. And maybe he’s missing something crucial:_

 _:Maybe:_ In some sense, that would be the most-convenient world, where he could believe that Leareth was well-intentioned and still wrong. There was something tempting about it, to slide towards that clarity, and feeling that urge, the quiet voice in the back of his mind raised a flag. He had the sense that it would be a mistake. That some part of him wanted to simplify the situation any way he could, to find something black-and-white, because the shades of grey were painful in their confusion.

If he gave in, let himself tell a convenient story, he wouldn’t be able to look at reality.

Vanyel could sense the edges of Yfandes’ confusion, but she didn’t disagree. She walked in silence for a while, hooves crunching in the snow.

 _:This is important:_ he sent. _:’Fandes, this is the most important decision we’re ever going to make. It doesn’t just affect Valdemar – it affects the whole world. The whole future. I’m terrified of making the wrong call, and I can’t even figure out what questions we would need to answer. Don’t you think it’s better we have as much advice as possible?:_

 _:…Yes. I don’t know why…:_ He could feel her mulling it over. _:Why I feel so upset about it. I think it just feels so much more complicated, now. Messy. Out of our control. I guess I don’t like that:_

He didn’t like it either – and yet, he couldn’t help remembering what a relief it had been to surrender control, just for a little while. To let other people carry the weight. He wasn’t sure that was ever a thought he would have let into the open before, but he couldn’t deny it. _I was so tired._

It was impossible to take back any of it, now. It wasn’t just up to him and his conscience anymore – he would have to convince Randi and Savil and the others of it. Or else…what? Break with the Heraldic Circle? Strike out on his own? _I don’t even want to think about that._

And he had promised Randi he hadn’t – no, not exactly. _I promised I would talk to him first._ It wasn’t like Randi could stop him, even if he was forewarned. One advantage of being the most powerful mage in the Kingdom, he thought bitterly.

–And a disadvantage, because surely it was part of why Tantras was so defensive about his having a say in anything now.

Yfandes heard that, of course; she was close in his mind, sharing his surface thoughts. He felt her reaction, the same flinch, the quiet acknowledgement of it.

 _:Melody pointed something out to me:_ Yfandes sent finally. Thoughtful. _:Something Randi mentioned to her. That maybe the only way you would ever have learned Leareth’s full plan was if there was no interference, and part of me knew that, or the blue place did, and that’s why it felt wrong to tell Savil or Randi. Because if you had, they would have tried to stop the dreams, or argued with you, and you would never have gotten to a point with Leareth where he was willing to trust you:_

 _:Hmm:_ Vanyel should have thought of that, and he hadn’t. _:Maybe:_ he allowed.

A note of confusion, rising; he had expected Yfandes to be a lot more disturbed by the second dream, and the ten million people. She’d been upset, of course, when he relayed it to her, and yet she hadn’t shown nearly the level of knee-jerk horror that, say, Savil had. Maybe because she was so much more used to the way Leareth thought; it was new information, but it wasn’t the same kind of destabilizing shock – it was something she could take a step back from and think about.

No, it was the concept of creating a god that had sent her running for the hills.

 _:I’m not sure it changes anything:_ Yfandes sent. _:I don’t trust what the blue place has to say anymore:_

Come back to it later. There was another dangling thread to address. _:I need to think over some of my past decisions:_ he sent. _:Figure out what mistakes I’ve been making this whole time. I can’t afford to make any more:_

Sympathy, and concern. _:Van, everyone makes mistakes. You’re only human:_

 _:Fine, but I can try to make fewer of them, can’t I? I don’t get to just shrug and give up:_ He shook his head. _:I know we can’t change the past, but... I’m thinking of Sunhame, and how I talked to Savil and realized there were considerations I hadn’t thought through. Even if they wouldn’t have changed my decision that particular time, in those particular circumstances. There are other versions where it might have, and I was still making a mistake in my thinking. I should have gone through it in advance, and set a policy. Can’t change what I did then, but I can change what I do in the future:_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“Go on?” Stef said, a little impatiently. Jisa had just finished telling him about having a picnic in the stables with Herald Vanyel the night before, but then she had trailed off, staring into the distance.

Jisa blinked. “Oh. Sorry. Well, Yfandes looked in a bad way.”

“What do you mean?”

“All skinny and ragged. Scratched up. Like she just got back from a battlefield. She was limping too. And…I don’t know, but my Uncle Van was being odd with her. Clingy and then cold. Wasn’t that obvious but I noticed.” 

There were no battlefields within hundreds of miles, right now. Valdemar was at peace. “That doesn’t make sense,” Stef said.

A stubborn jutting of her chin. “It’s what I saw.

He lifted a hand, placating. “I believe you, Jisa. I’m just confused, is all.” Turn it over in his head, try to fit the pieces together. “If there really was a secret spy mission, far away, maybe he Gated but she didn’t make it back with him and had to go on foot?”

Jisa frowned, skeptical.

They were outside in the snow-draped gardens, somewhere they weren’t likely to be overheard. Stef was pacing back and forth, cloak wrapped tightly around himself, trying to stay warm. Jisa perched on the edge of a bench, apparently undisturbed by the cold – well, she did have a much better cloak, a fine fur-lined garment with a proper hood.

Stef tugged at two fistfuls of his hair. “I don’t understand! None of this makes any sense. Whatever it is, it’s not over.”

“No. Mama and Papa missed supper with me _again_ yesterday. And Mama wasn’t listening to a word I said at breakfast, she was thinking about something else. Something’s wrong.”

“Hmm. Do they suspect anything? About you knowing, I mean?”

She shook her head. “Mama’s too distracted. I think maybe Melody is suspicious, but she hasn’t asked me any questions – she just _looks_ at me.” Jisa swung her legs, kicking a clod of snow into the nearby bushes. “Mama said she wasn’t going to be at supper again tonight, because there’s a meeting.”

Oh. Stef felt a thrill of excitement. “Do you know where?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “And we’re not eavesdropping again. If we get caught we’ll be in so much trouble. We’re lucky no one saw us before.”

Stef paced back and forth a few times. It was true – and all the same, it was incredibly hard to set aside a tantalizing hint of more information. “Do you know who’s going to be there?”

“Not Uncle Van, because I’m going to have supper with him again tonight. And not Starwind or Moondance, I invited Moondance to come too and he said yes.” A brief flash of pleasure in her eyes, that quickly faded.Then her eyes widened. “Oh! I bet Kilchas and Sandra are going. They came looking for Mama in our room and had a conversation in Mindspeech.”

“Did you overhear any of it?” Stef said hopefully.

Jisa shook her head. “They were shielding me out. But not my Empathy so much, so I could tell that Mama was nervous, and Kilchas was very curious.”

A sudden flash of insight, and Stef froze. “Kilchas and Sandra weren’t in the Work Room,” he said slowly. “What if they weren’t in the know before, and King Randale is bringing them to a meeting to tell them what happened?”

“Could be.” Jisa’s mouth tightened. “I wish they’d tell _me_ something. It’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not fair,” Stef agreed, a little absently. He was distracted, his mind racing ahead.

What would King Randale be telling them? Picture a solemn, official meeting-room, mahogany walls, the sort of place where an orphan from the streets of Three Rivers would never, ever belong. The sort of room where decisions were made that would shift a whole country’s future. Something out of a tale.

Except that somehow, he had fallen into that story. If not quite to the center of it, then close enough. And wasn’t that what Bards were for, to tell stories?

Of course, to tell it, you had to be there. Not just wandering around the edges, holding puzzle-pieces up to the light and trying to guess what they meant.

It was clear enough that some of them meant danger. Neither he nor Jisa had said it out loud, not fully, but it hung between them, unspoken.

It hadn’t seemed real at first – it had all felt a bit like a game. The thrill of being in on a secret, the rush that came of having a chance to be inquisitive and clever, not to mention the opportunity to befriend the daughter of a King. Stef hadn’t, really, considered what it meant that Herald Vanyel, the most powerful mage in the eight-hundred-year history of Valdemar, was terrified of something.

Knowing that, how was a scrawny lowborn Bardic-trainee with no power or influence to speak of supposed to feel?Probably something other than excited.

 _Maybe there’s going to be a war._ Well, times of war were, in some ways, the best of times for Bards, as the profligate number of new songs written in the last decade proved.

On the heels of that thought: _maybe we’re going to lose._

Stef knew he ought to be afraid, and he was, a little, but fear wouldn’t help. It wasn’t practical. 

“Mama would be so angry,” Jisa said; her voice was odd, choked. “If she knew what I did.”

Perfect. Of course she was having a crisis of conscience. What could he say to her? “Maybe, but they were wrong to hide it from you as well. Don’t you think it balances out?”

“No! Maybe! I don’t know!” Jisa’s hands slid up her face to cover her eyes. “Stef. I’m _scared_.”

He hesitated, then took a few steps over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Shush. I know.” He wanted to tell her to keep her voice down, as well – they were in a public place – but he didn’t think she would listen. “Jisa… We’re going to figure it out, all right? Everything’s going to be fine.”

She glared at him through slitted eyes, visible between her splayed fingers, and pulled away from his touch. “Stef, don’t. I’m not a baby.” Then she lowered her hands, deliberately straightening her spine. “It _will_ be fine. Mama and Papa will fix it. I wish they would tell me, but…I trust them.”

“…You really do,” Stef heard himself say.

“Yes.” Her eyes rested on him, curious. “Stef. You don’t trust anyone, do you?” She said it lightly, calmly. Like she was asking about the weather.

It didn’t sting, exactly, but he felt something he couldn’t name. “I don’t know. Depends what you mean by trusting someone.”

Jisa tilted her head to the side, watching him. “Stef, you’re funny. You think you’re only looking out for yourself, but then you try to solve other people’s problems for them. Without even being asked.”

Stef flinched. _I wish you would stop making comments about me like that._ “Jisa, are you looking at me with your Sight?” he said sharply.

“No. Just guessing.” And she smiled, a sunny, wide-open smile, that reminded him she wasn’t quite eleven yet. He had forgotten that for a moment – in some ways, she seemed so grown-up. Then it faded. “Sorry. Melody says people sometimes don’t like that. I’ll stop.”

Stef hid a wince. Why did it feel like he had failed some kind of test?

* * *

_:Relax, ashke:_ Moondance sent – not quite with a Mindtouch, not quite in words, he let it slip along their lifebond. He had just eased Starwind down against the pillows on the bed provided to them, after helping him out of Randi’s narrow, chilly, honestly rather unimpressive throne-room. And then picking him up and carrying him on the second half of the walk. It was very rare that Starwind gave up his pride enough to allow that, but the outside trip between the two Palace buildings was difficult for him; it was warmer today and that meant the path was all slush, slippery and treacherous.

“Try to rest, now,” he said, reaching to caress his partner’s brow. “You will need your strength for tonight.” A pause. “I worry for you, _ashke_. Are you well?”

Starwind frowned. Moondance could feel his headache, echoing along their bond, and he was struggling more than usual to find words. “Tired,” he admitted.

And frustrated, Moondance could guess. He had checked Starwind over with his Healing-Sight, and there was nothing in particular wrong except fatigue. So many things were still draining for him. The cold, walking long distances, even the ten minutes he had needed to stand unaided in the throne-room.

“It has been a long few days,” he said. “It is not easy, to be so far from home.” Though it seemed to be hitting Starwind a lot harder. Moondance found everything in the Palace fascinating, and he could easily imagine spending months here and still not having time to absorb everything as it deserved. _Oh, but I wish Brightstar could see it._ Maybe someday.

He missed his son, urgently, but Brightstar was hardly a child anymore. He had been more proud than upset to be left alone in the Vale.

Starwind grimaced, but said nothing.

“What did you think of our Wingbrother’s sister?” Moondance said, changing the subject. He wasn’t sure what to make of Lissa. She seemed nothing like Vanyel, they didn’t even look very similar, but she clearly adored him.

“I think she is skilled,” Starwind said, a little haltingly.

“She does seem so.” Intelligent and curious, but not in the bookish, abstracted way that Vanyel was – there was something down-to-earth about her. Practical. “She would like the Vale, I think.” And might even fit in better than Vanyel, regarding some of the Tayledras customs… “We might offer her to visit?”

“Perhaps,” Starwind said vaguely.

Moondance hesitated and then swung himself onto the bed as well, leaning into Starwind’s chest. His lifebonded was so much frailer than before, even now, and yet there was still strength there. Like a tree rooted deep in the side of a cliff, ravaged by wind and snow, but tenacious.

 _I love you,_ he thought. _So much._

“And of King Randale?” he said out loud.

Starwind was silent for a long time, thinking. “Very young,” he said finally.

Despite himself, Moondance snorted. “There is that.” Randale was younger than Vanyel, and it showed in some ways. Not in others. _He has the eyes of a man who has seen a thousand winters._ “Though hardly inexperienced.” He had ruled for eight years now, and had trained for it long before he was crowned. “He bears great respect, I think.” Some part of him wished they were invited to the meeting that would be happening later – he was curious to see how the other Heralds of the inner circle treated their King – but he understood Randi’s reluctance. _We are very distracting to the people here._

“Yes.” Starwind groaned, started to lift a hand to his forehead.

“Let me.” Moondance pushed Starwind’s arm down, and turned, reaching in with both hands. “He does not try to do the work alone,” he went on. “His advisors have a deep trust in him, and I think he trusts them also. He knows he is fallible, and listens.” Was that true? Stop and think. “This is true of his Heralds. Perhaps less so of his Council. They seem a fractious crowd.” It was a weird system of governance, this band of noble lords that represented the various pieces of the Kingdom, but maybe it made sense – Valdemar was so much bigger than any Vale, and the Heralds were so few. And…different. Gifted. Chosen. _They cannot speak for everyone._

“Hmm.” Starwind closed his eyes, leaning into Moondance’s touch, some of the tension draining out of him. “…That is better.” A pause. “He is a good King. And. Not our land. Not our people.”

Moondance’s hands froze.

“Please do not stop,” Starwind murmured.

Moondance forced his hands to move again, massaging his partner’s temples. Searching for words. “…You said yourself that if he were to succeed, this mage, Leareth, would be a threat to all people everywhere.”

“If.” Starwind opened his eyes, their cool blue resting on Moondance.“Do not think it likely.”

Moondance started to open his mouth, and then closed it. Something was rising in him, a slippery hazy tide, unease and confusion.

“They need our help,” he said finally. “Starwind, _ashke_ , you know this. Vanyel is our Wingbrother. We cannot let him bear this alone.”

“And we will not. Have not.” Starwind shifted slightly, stretching his back. “We are here now. And, is thanks to k’Treva they have the Web.”

“This is true.” Moondance shook his head. “The Web will not be protection enough. Not for this.”

“Valdemar is a thousand times our people,” Starwind pointed out. “Have numbers on their side.”

“They have a quarter the mages we do in k’Treva alone,” Moondance shot back. “They cannot face this threat, _ashke_ , unless our Wingbrother is to go north alone and–” Close down that line of thought, he wasn’t ready to follow it to its conclusion. “I do not… I am not saying we must ride north with their armies. Though perhaps we ought, I do not know. It it too soon.”

“Then what?” Impatience in Starwind’s tone, a hint of irritation.

What was he trying to say? He wasn’t sure he knew. Only that it felt like Starwind was missing something. “It is a difficult question, that they ask,” he started. He swallowed. “To guess at Leareth’s true purpose, here. What must be done.”

“I thought it clear.” Starwind’s voice was flat. “What our Goddess wishes, here.”

“I–” For the second time, Moondance bit down on the words before they could slip out. Maybe it was clear enough what the Star-Eyed wanted, as clear as mere mortals could ever know it. He had seen glimpses of it in his dreams, a pattern turning into the light. _A wall of darkness, winding paths, and this one was the widest–_

And yet.

“I am not sure how to feel toward a goddess that would do such a thing,” he said, barely a whisper, repeating the words he had spoken sixteen years ago. “And, you know that our Wingbrother is unsure. He is not certain what the gods wish of him, and…he is not sure of where his conscience calls.”

He felt a pulse of affection and pride, through the lifebond, and Starwind lifted his arm, only a little clumsily, to caress his cheek. “You care so deeply,” he murmured. “Our Wingbrother is lucky. To have you as a friend.”

He hadn’t, Moondance noted, said that he thought Moondance, or Vanyel, was _right_. There was – not quite a rift between them, nothing near that dramatic, but something, the beginnings of a hairline crack. He had felt something like it before, yesterday, when he tried to comfort Vanyel. _It is the greatest hubris to think that one knows better than the gods,_ he had said, and felt his friend flinch away. _I’ve never exactly felt the gods were on my side,_ Vanyel had said, bitterness and grief leaking through in every word, and Moondance had been ashamed, because of course his Wingbrother would feel that way. The gods had taken so much from him, and all for a gain that he wasn’t even sure was worth it.

He should have been able to speak of it to Starwind, if he could to anyone. _He is my shay’kreth’ashke, and I love him more than anything in this world. I would trust him with my life a thousand times over. I already have._

But the words wouldn’t come.

* * *

“So that’s it,” Randi said quietly. “Feel free to take a minute. I know it’s a lot.”

The silence was broken only by Keiran’s nervous laugh, not quite swallowed.

Randi had cut the introduction down to a speech that took less than five minutes, and delivered it as quickly as he could without once looking up from his notes. There would be questions, of course – he hadn’t covered everything, hadn’t been trying to. He wanted to wait and see which aspects seemed most pertinent to the others.

Just the basics. _There’s a mage in the north who calls himself Leareth. We know about him due to Herald Vanyel’s Foresight, and we believe he has been preparing an army for at least the last sixteen years. Queen Elspeth knew, but it didn’t make sense to invest too much in preparation, given how little we knew. Unusually, Vanyel can speak to the man in these visions, and they have been negotiating for the last fifteen years – in secret, at Taver’s request. A week ago, Vanyel learned of his final plan…_

There had been sighs, gasps, shuffles – Randi hadn’t been tracking reactions, hopefully Shavri or Tran had been paying attention. The room felt somehow crowded and empty at the same time. More faces in total; Keiran, Joshel, Kilchas, Sandra, Katha, and Shallan were all new additions; but he had decided against bringing Starwind or Moondance to this – it would seem weird enough to them that Lissa was present, though she did work often with Keiran these days – and Melody had bowed out of her own invitation. Dara was taking notes again, and no one had batted an eye at that, despite her trainee status.

“Well, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Kilchas said finally – his voice was casual, with a forced almost-cheer. “So that’s what’s going on with Van, then. He’s having some kind of nervous breakdown? Can’t blame the man.”

Randi lifted his eyes. Kilchas looked like he had no idea what to do with his face, and was trying to smile and frown at the same time. “It was very stressful for him,” he admitted. “Caused a lot of strain with his Companion, though they’re sorting it out.” He wasn’t going to lie about anything, he had decided – that path led nowhere good – but he thought it was reasonable to be sparing with some of the gory details.

Kilchas nodded, apparently satisfied.

Silence.

“Immortal.” Sandra’s voice had that abstracted note it always got when she was thinking something over; he could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“We know it’s possible. Taver is proof.” And Need, Shavri had pointed out at some point, but the sword’s existence wasn’t common knowledge. “As to whether it’s true, in this case… It’s a very difficult thing to prove, of course, but we have considerable evidence. At the very least, _some_ coherent entity has been operating skillfully for a very long time, with unbelievable discretion. It could be a conspiracy of some kind, rather than a single person, but I’m truly not sure that’s any more plausible.”

Katha made a soft sound of agreement. “Knowing something about secret organizations, I have to agree.”

Silence. A little to Randi’s surprise, there were nods, and no one looked all that skeptical.

Keiran leaned forward. “I could wish Elspeth had invested a little more in preparation. Or considered warning us. I can’t blame you for following the policy she set, Randi, just – it would have made a _lot_ of difference if we had started building up our forces sooner. Or even a pre-emptive invasion, attacking him before he was ready. Seems like we wasted the warning we had.”

“I don’t disagree.” He carefully didn’t see that he agreed, either _._ “I learned after I was crowned, so I never did speak to Elspeth directly about her reasoning, but I imagine she felt very tight on resources. She knew it was at least ten to twenty years off, at the beginning. Her priority would have been making sure Vanyel got the training and experience he needed, to face this threat if it ever materialized.”

“He certainly has that,” Kilchas popped in again. “One good thing that’s come out of that god-forsaken war, I guess.”

“Seasoned troops as well,” Keiran pointed out.

“A preemptive attack would have been logistically challenging,” Randi added. “We’ve never succeeded at finding the exact location of the pass, and even Vanyel’s Farsight hasn’t shown a hint of where Leareth is staging. Bringing our forces out to meet a known threat is one thing, but sending out search parties to the other side of the Ice Wall Mountains…”

Keiran seemed a little mollified. “True enough. And, well, if all we need to do is help Vanyel get positioned to take him out with Final Strike…”

“I would rather avoid that,” Randi said quickly. “One very significant consequence is that we wouldn’t have Vanyel anymore.” He took in a breath, let it out. “One thing I want to emphasize, again, is that I’m not sure a direct war is the best strategy. It may end up being our only option, but we do have this rare chance at an unpressured negotiation.”

“You think a man like that would ever hold to a treaty?” Keiran said, dubious.

Randi met her eyes levelly. “If it was in his best interests, perhaps. He’s no honourable man, by any sense that we mean the word, but…Vanyel has a sense of his character, by now. It’s possible we could work out an agreement that was mutually beneficial.”

“Huh. So we convince him Valdemar’s too hard a nut to crack? Point him at one of our neighbours instead?” Keiran grimaced. “Hardly seems better.”

Randi had to agree. _I would feel like a monster, setting him on some other hapless kingdom._ “I think it’s too early to decide what outcome we’re hoping for,” he said. “We need to orient first.” 

A terse nod. Keiran understood that language.

Katha lifted her hand, tentative. “Randi, I was about to ask what attempt we’ve made to send spies, but something else occurred to me. This Leareth sounds terrifyingly competent. We’ve got to assume he has spies in Valdemar. Do we know anything about that?”

“That’s a very good question.” He felt his lips tug into a smile. “Nothing for certain, but we’ve had a few hints. Vanyel thinks that he has spies in Haven, and has likely penetrated the Council, but that he almost certainly doesn’t have a foothold in the Senior Circle. He also has a slow communication-loop, on the order of weeks to months; we think he may have faster ways of passing information in an emergency, but they’re likely to be flashier. There were some early attempts on Vanyel’s life, before their attempt at diplomacy had gotten very far, but obviously none were successful. Unfortunately, we never have managed to capture one of his agents. Not alive, at least.”

Katha nodded. “I’ll have a think about ways we could locate them, without being obvious about it.” Her head tipped slightly to the side. “I’m guessing we don’t want to be. Obvious about it, I mean. In case he catches wind.”

“Exactly right.” Randi’s smile broadened. Katha had always been such a quick study; it was a pleasure working with her. “Ideally, we leave his agents in place rather than flushing them out, which leaves us the option of passing false information. We’ll have to be sneakier than he is, which is a monumental challenge – but if anyone can manage it, it’s you.”

Katha actually blushed, already scribbling something on her scrap of paper.

Shallan spoke next. “I’m sorry, this is a little off-topic, but do we know _why_ Taver ordered Van to keep it secret?”

Tran was making an odd face, and Savil’s features had gone mask-like, but no one seemed to have noticed.

Randi sighed. “Unfortunately, I doubt we’ll ever have more than guesses. We think he must have seen something, in whatever way it is that Companions sometimes do. It’s possible even he didn’t know the full reason why.”

That got appropriate looks of solemnity. Dara was blinking hard, her eyes suspiciously shiny; Randi hadn’t realized it bothered her so much _._ She hadn’t even been Chosen yet when Taver – oh. She would be feeling for Tran more than most people.

Joshel was next to speak. “I’m sure you’ve thought about this already, but if there’s a war coming, we’re going to need a way to fund it. It sounds like there’s a risk to pushing anything through with the Council too soon, but I had some thoughts about our options…”

Randi listened with half an ear, surveying the room. The response had been calmer than he had expected. Measured, thoughtful. Maybe he had successfully set the tone, or maybe everyone was still too numb with shock to really feel it yet.

He didn’t want to let this meeting go too long – better to give it time to sink in, and come back later for substantive discussion – but he did want to make sure everyone felt they had a chance to ask clarifying questions. Some of the ones he had expected had come up, like Sandra’s doubt in Leareth’s immortality, but some hadn’t.

No one had said a word about whether they ought to be doubting Vanyel’s trustworthiness. Then again, Randi hadn’t quite said outright that Vanyel was considering joining Leareth, or put much emphasis on Van’s respect for the man. He had mentioned, briefly, that given Leareth’s intelligence and obvious skill at manipulation, there was concern that Vanyel’s thinking had been influenced, but he hadn’t dwelled about it. No one had asked about possible magical control – maybe trusting him to have ruled it out immediately, or maybe they just hadn’t thought of it yet. It hadn’t occurred to him right away either. 

He wasn’t sure if it was a mistake, to avoid bringing it all into the open – he and Tran and Shavri had gone back and forth on it for a candlemark, earlier. The current stance would make things a lot less fraught in the short run. Focus on practicalities. Give people a chance to process the first shock, before throwing the even deeper horrors at them.

But in the long run, it was a crack between them, one he would have to deal with sooner or later.

* * *

Vanyel stood in his doorway, looking into his sister’s face. Her expression was controlled enough, only a tightness around her mouth and eyes giving away the strain, but there was a wildness in her eyes.

It was well after sunset now. Jisa had just left, hugging him and promising to come back the next day. Vanyel found that he didn’t mind having her around; she respectfully avoiding asking any leading questions, and just chattered about her life to him. With anyone else, that cheerfulness might have been grating, but it was hard to feel anything but charmed by Jisa.

“Liss?” he said uncertainty.

“Van, come with me.” Her voice rolled over him, forceful enough that he couldn’t resist. “We’re going to get very drunk. I can’t think of any other sensible response to this.”

He groaned. “Liss, I don’t know if–”

“Melody says it’s fine.” Lissa hadn’t even let him finish.

Which surprised him, but even so, he _definitely_ didn’t have the energy for a night out. “If you’re thinking of that awful noisy tavern, I really don’t–”

“No!” Her nose wrinkled. “That sounds dreadful. Let’s just go to my quarters. I have a keg of ale. And some of that apple-brandy.”

That seemed better, even relaxing. Though not necessarily a good idea. _Liss can drink me under the table any day._

 _:’Fandes?:_ he sent, helplessly.

She had been listening in, and surged fully into his mind. _:Why not? I think it’ll help you unwind, and you need that. It’s not like you’ve got anything scheduled tomorrow:_

Or the next day, or the rest of the week. Aside from meeting with Melody at random times, he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything.

“All right,” he heard himself say.

Lissa smiled, tight and fierce. Linking arms with him, she steered him around. “This way.”

A gust of cold air on his face as they stepped outside. Fine wispy clouds blew across the sky, but a hazy moon and a few stars showed through.

Was Leareth, wherever he was, looking at those same stars? Was he thinking of a world full of lights, most of whom he would be too late to save?

_Am I going to kill him, and destroy any chance that his plan could work?_

Dwell on it later. He swayed sideways into Lissa’s shoulder, and she glanced over, smiling, and then draped her cloak and arm around him.

It was nearly a month since he had been to her quarters, in the wing of the Palace set aside for high-ranking members of the Guard. She could have had a much bigger suite, but she was Lissa, so of course she didn’t – her room was even smaller than Vanyel’s, and almost undecorated. _I spent years living out of my saddlebags,_ she had said, when he commented. _Don’t like owning more things than I could put on my horse’s back._

A few people in blue uniform nodded or waved to Lissa, and one woman hugged her; everyone they passed bowed to Vanyel. Maybe he should have been used to it, by now, but it was still bizarre when strangers did that.

He didn’t begin to relax until Lissa had closed the door on their backs, bolted it, and slid a chair-back under the doorknob. It was very dark. He sent a little mage-light to the ceiling while he looked around for candles.

His sister was digging around in her cupboard. “Oh! I do have wine as well. Here, for you.” She held out a dusty bottle, waggling it in the air until he took it. “It’s a good vintage. Keiran gave it to me, oh, two years ago?”

He stared at it. “…Do I get a cup?”

“Do you need one?”

“I suppose not.” He looked vaguely around for something to take the cork out with, then gave up and used a bit of Fetching. By the time he had finished, Lissa had filled her own heavy-bottomed clay tankard with ale from the keg she kept on a side table.

He followed her into the bedroom, and stood by the window for a moment. No, he didn’t want the sky constantly reminding him of Leareth. He closed the curtains, and joined Lissa on the side of the bed.

“Drink.” She put her hand over his, guiding the bottle toward his mouth. Vanyel batted her away, and took a sip unaided.

Lissa drained at least half of her cup in three swallows, and set it down between her knees. “Well? Is it tolerable?”

“It’s quite good, actually.”

“Excellent. Drink more.” 

He groaned. “Liss, are you _trying_ to make me ill?”

“I’ve got snacks, I think. That’ll help.” She bent over and riffled in a drawer of her side table.

Five minutes later, they were sharing a cloth bag of dried apple-pieces and cherries. Lissa had refilled her tankard, and the wine in Vanyel’s bottle was noticeably lower. It was already going to his head.

 _:’Fandes, aren’t you going to tell me to pace myself?:_ he sent.

Amusement. _:That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you accuse me of not mother-henning you enough. Make sure you drink some water as well, that’s all:_

“Having a chat with your lady Companion?” Lissa said. “Heya, ‘Fandes!”

Vanyel felt Yfandes’ laughter, like chestnuts popping in his head. _:Heya, Lissa:_ To his surprise, she included his sister in the link.

Lissa’s eyes widened, but she didn’t remark on it. “So. Van. Care to tell me any more of the story? We got the high-level summary, but I was too stunned to ask questions.”

He blinked. “What part? There’s…kind of a lot.”

“Start at the beginning. You first started having the dream…when?”

“In k’Treva.” No, that wasn’t right. The memories were hazy, and painful to look at. “Even before that. A few times in Haven, right after Yfandes Chose me. I didn’t know enough to realize it was Foresight.”

“Gods.” Lissa was silent a moment, staring into the distance. “So, when I was there sitting with you, you were talking to Leareth in your dreams?”

“…Not talking to him.” Vanyel took another swig from the bottle; his throat felt dry and hot. _I’m still too sober to think about that year._ “That didn’t start until much later. At the beginning I was acting out a script – well, you know how dreams are. It just seemed to make sense. Then I was trying to understand my Foresight, later, practicing lucid dreaming…”

“And?” Lissa’s voice was matter-of-fact.

“I realized I was dreaming.” _:’Fandes? Help me remember?:_ He didn’t have his notes with him. Probably Savil had them still, or Randi or Tran, he wasn’t even sure.

Her light flowed into his mind. _:You said ‘this is a dream’ and then–:_

He quoted the words back to Lissa, a beat after. “–Leareth said, ‘oh, a Foresight-dream with two individuals, and we can speak to one another. Very novel.’ And that was that, we were talking to each other.” Another sip of wine. “Probably spoke to him a few hundred times.”

Lissa took a long pull from her cup. Her cheeks were already flushed, her eyes bright. “…What’s he like? Is he handsome?”

Not the question he had expected, and he nearly spat a mouthful of wine all over his Whites, feeling his face heating. “Um. I never thought about it.” Though he couldn’t un-ask the question now. Damn it, if he weren’t a terrifying immortal mage who had arranged two attempts on Vanyel’s life and was right now preparing an army to march on his kingdom, Leareth would have been very attractive. _And now I’ll be thinking about that every time. Perfect._

 _…_ A moment later, he caught onto the thread of thought. _I’m assuming I’ll talk to him again._ Which was dubious – and yet, if he was honest with himself, he hoped they would speak again. Not now, not soon – it was a long time before he would feel ready – but someday. It was hard to imagine never having that again, Leareth’s quick intelligence, his ruthless, mathematical lens on the world. His aeons of knowledge and expertise. His fascinating stories of the past.

 _I miss talking to him._ That was a disturbing thought.

More wine would help, he thought, lifting the bottle and taking a deep swallow.

Lissa waited. “Are you scared of him?” she said quietly, a moment later. 

“Of course.” He snorted. “Only a fool wouldn’t be. Liss, he’s smarter than me. More experienced. More prepared. The only advantage I have is raw power, and hells, I don’t even know that for sure. Maybe I’m just doomed.”

Lissa drained the rest of her cup and set it down. She laid a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Van.”

That was all she said. She didn’t try to argue that he would win. No comforting lies. Just that quiet acknowledgement.

“I’m afraid I’ll fail,” he said dully. There was a heaviness in his chest, a tightness in his throat. Not really fear; something flatter and sadder. “Liss, I, just – damn it! All I’ve ever wanted was to protect Valdemar. To make my life worth something. What if I can’t? What if at the end of it all, I lose anyway? Maybe I make a mistake and it’s my own dumb fault. Maybe I never had a chance to begin with. What if I die fighting and he rolls right over Valdemar anyway?”

Lissa said nothing, just squeezed his knee.

“If that happened…” He didn’t want to think about it, but that was always a warning sign. Tempting to think that nothing would matter anymore, after that point, because he would be dead in any case, but there would still be a world. With people in it that he cared about, and millions more he had never even met but who still mattered just as much. “Liss, if that’s what it comes to, I don’t – if he just fails, if the plan doesn’t even work, he kills millions of people for no reason. For nothing at all. I don’t know whether to hope for that. Because at least it’d be over, then, there’s a worst-case scenario and the world is still _there_. And, I mean, it’s not like most’ve those people would’ve been born in the first place, otherwise.” That wasn’t something he had thought of before, and he wasn’t sure if it ought to change anything – surely not, they were people just the same, but it still felt confusing. “If he half-succeeds, if he’s close but not quite, it, it could be _worse_ than that.”

A crease appeared between Lissa’s brows, innocent confusion in her eyes. “What? I don’t think I understand. What would be worse?”

“Sorry. Not saying it right.” If he even understood it in the first place; it was all a messy tangle in his heads, implications and inferences and wild guesses. He was half-drunk, losing the threads even as he tried to follow them. “Never mind.” He looked up at her, helplessly, blinking back tears. “Liss, I’m not afraid of dying, but I want it to _mean_ something. Not just be a waste.”

“It won’t be a waste.” Her eyes bored into him, dark in the candlelight. “Van, even if it’s not a sure thing… It’s still worth trying.”

Worth it in expectation. That was how Leareth would put it. Shuddering, Vanyel lifted the bottle to his lips again, which felt numb and rubbery. The wine was half-gone and his head was spinning. _I should probably slow down._ But he didn’t want to, particularly.

Lissa patted his shoulder, and stood. “I need another drink.”

“Liss… Thank you.”

A glance over her shoulder, eyes like open windows. “For what?”

He had to speak slowly and carefully, to avoid slurring. “For being my sister.” And probably something else, but he couldn’t find the words for it.

Lissa retreated into the other room, and he heard the liquid gush of ale being drawn from the keg. She was back moments later, a smile creasing the corners of her eyes. She looked so different when she smiled, he thought – it softened the hard planes of her face, and for just a moment, he could see hints of Lady Treesa in her features.

She slung her arm around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re my brother. Even though you’re stressful.”

Another time, maybe he would have been hurt by that comment, but now it slipped past him like water over a rock. It wasn’t like he could claim it was false.

“Randi said you might be able to negotiate a truce,” Lissa said. “With Leareth. Do you really think there’s any chance of that?”

The chance of topic knocked him sideways, and he blinked hard, his vision doubling for a moment before his eyes remembered how to focus. “I hope. Liss, I…” His tongue tangled over the words, too many of them and none were the right ones. “He wanted an alliance, I think. I don’t know, don’t understand anything anymore, just – he’s right. Not everything. But the problems he wants to solve. He’s got a point, damn it, and _no one_ is doing anything about it.”

“What sort of problems?” Lissa said curiously.

It was hard to figure out where to start. “You know. Everything in the world’s a complete disaster. Valdemar’s better, but. Still littles starving. Even in Haven.”

Lissa’s face was blurred, through a sheen of what might have been tears, but he thought her nose wrinkled. “I know. I’ve been to Exile’s Gate. But, Van – I mean, everywhere’s got places like that.”

“Why?” He stared helplessly at her, fighting to breathe past the sudden pain in his chest. “Liss, why? Doesn’t have to be that way. You could imagine…a world…where that didn’t happen.” He raised the bottle to his lips again, absently, while he tried to find the right examples. “Enough Healers. Enough crops. No wars.” Damn it, Liss had seen all the same things he had, on the front. Fields burned. Children starving, dying of a flux in Horn. Soldiers freezing to death in the depths of winter. And none of it had _had_ to happen. There could just have…not been a war. Right?

“Van, I’m not sure I _can_ imagine it. Isn’t that just the way the world is?”

 _Maybe you need more imagination._ He closed his eyes against the sting of tears. “Why should it have to be? Things get better and worse all the time. Couldn’t it, just, be _more_ better? If we tried? If we did the right…” He was starting to have trouble stringing words together.

“Oh, Van.” Lissa pulled his head down against her shoulder. “You’re unbelievable, did you know that? You care so much.”

“Not as m-much as Leareth.” And then his throat closed on a sob, and he leaned into her, pressing his face into the folds of her sleeve. Maybe if he wasn’t looking at it, the world would go away…

“Shush, hey, it’s all right.” Lissa held him, stroking his hair.

“It’s _not_ all right!” She didn’t understand. He didn’t think she had ever understood. “It’s not. Never has been.”

“I guess not. But it’s not your fault, Van.”

“Doesn’t matter. Why w-would that matter?” Why was it so hard to make her _see_ it? To make anyone else see and understand? “It’s still there.”

He heard her indrawn breath. “I’m not getting it, am I?” A hesitation, as her hand slipped over to rub his back. “Van, I remember when you were little, in lessons, and we would read about battles. Those were always my favourite lessons, it was so exciting. But it made you ill, didn’t it? ‘Cause you were actually imagining it. Seeing it from the perspective of the men dying. Scared and in pain and alone. And it was just a game to me, ’til I saw it for real.”

He had never heard her talk like that. “Liss…” He pulled back, trying to see her face.

“I don’t think that makes me a bad person.” Her voice was only a little unsteady. “Just sheltered, I guess. But, Van, maybe it does make you a _better_ person. That you didn’t need to have your face shoved in it, to know that war’s a damned waste and a tragedy and all the songs of glory are lies.”

She stared past him for a moment, jaw working, then jerkily retrieved her cup from the side table and drained it in a single long gulp. Coughing a little, she threw the cup carelessly onto the covers; a few drops of foam dripped from the side.

Vanyel followed her lead, rescuing the wine-bottle from by his feet. It was three-quarters gone.

“I asked Alban once,” Lissa was saying. Her voice was conversational. Too casual. “Wether he ever felt like a monster, for slaughtering the enemy. For sending his soldiers out to die. He said of course he did. Every day. And that it was _right_ , to feel that way – that I ought never to push it aside and tell myself it was all right because it was justified. That the guilt had a purpose, it was for helping me remember that my people’s lives were worth something – that they had parents, and friends, and littles back home, and every single time I made a choice to send someone into danger, that’s the cost I was paying.” She blinked hard, swallowing, and when she spoke again, her voice was choked. “He said, feeling like a monster is how I know I’m not one yet.”

“Liss…” They had never spoken of it before. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She slumped, leaning her cheek against his. “It’s not often I’ve regretted my choices, but after Sunhame… I felt like a butcherer. We killed children, Van. Innocent children who just happened to be from another kingdom, and to get in our way. Because they were too brave. And I felt – I felt like a stain on the world, afterward. Like maybe it would be better if I’d never existed.” Vanyel felt her shuddering breath, warm against his neck. “And then I thought that, that the battle would’ve happened anyway, if not me it would’ve been someone else, and maybe that person wouldn’t’ve tried so hard to spare the innocents. And Alban always said, all good commanders have a little of the butcherer in them, or else we couldn’t do it at all, and – and all I could do was try to be better than whoever else might’ve taken my place. He said, that’s the burden we bear. That we don’t get to control our enemies actions, we don’t get to have a world without war, all we can do is try to be less brutal about it. And care enough to remember that, but not so much that it breaks us.”

How had it never occurred to him that she would have thought about this as well? It _hurt_ , imagining it – Lissa shouldn’t ever have felt like the world would be better off without her. It was against all the rules, there was a screaming wrongness to it.

He was still holding the bottle in his lap, and took another sip.

“Have you ever felt like that?” Lissa said softly.

“Too often.” His lips tangled, slurring the words. “Too d-damned often, Liss. They call me the Butcher in White.” And normally he never would have spoken of it to her, but there was an invitation in her eyes, and something more, something almost pleading. _She wants to know I understand._ “Felt like a blight on the world, a curse. Like all I could ever do was destroy everything I touched.” He shook his head. “And sometimes I couldn’t even care. Like everything was so broken, so awful, nothing worth salvaging, the only thing left to do was burn it to the ground.”

“Van–”

“Maybe that’s how ‘Lendel felt. Why he did it.” Words he wasn’t sure he had ever spoken out loud to anyone, even Melody. Certainly not Lissa. He was a little surprised that he _could_ speak of it – but there was room for it, a spaciousness that hadn’t been there before, and he didn’t think it was just from the wine.

“Oh.” For a moment Lissa froze, and then she wrapped her arms tightly around him. Saying nothing, not trying to comfort him, or argue.

He could be grateful for that. She was there, and maybe she didn’t understand entirely, but she understood some.

Finally, she released him. “Van.” And she leaned back, put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. He blinked, trying to focus; there were two of her and he couldn’t quite get them to line up. Something urgent and impassioned blazed in her eyes, or maybe it was just the reflection of candlelight. “Van, you’ve always had more imagination than me. Maybe that’s how you can picture a world without any war in it. I never could.”

He met her gaze, as well as he could, even though everything was spinning. _Center and ground_. “Not just war. People who don’t get to learn t’read, is a waste.” He _was_ slurring his words, now, but he couldn’t remember why he ought to care. “Littles go to bed hungry, even if they don’t die of it, whose parents beat them. Girls who haven’t a better option but to marry a man they don’t love.” Shavri had vented to him about that more than once. “S’all a waste. Wrong.Liss, everyone’s a light in the world, even people who aren’t born yet, and they, they deserve to live and be happy, and maybe we can’t ever make that happen, maybe s’impossible, but – shouldn’t someone try?”

Her nose wrinkled. “What would it even mean, to try to do something impossible?”

“Not giving up. That’s what.”

“Oh, Van.” Lissa’s eyes were like open windows, naked. “Am I heartless, that I never even thought about it that way?”

“No. Most people don’t.” There was a singing in his ears and a churning weight in his gut, and it was hard to speak. “S’hard enough just being alive, trying to get by. Doesn’t make you bad, doesn’t make anyone bad, if you didn’t see past that.” He forced a breath in and out, past the aching lump in his throat. “Wouldn’t’ve thought it on my own, ever. Not without Leareth.”

Lissa licked her lips. “Then I guess I have to be grateful you knew him, don’t I? Maybe he’s a cold bastard, maybe he’s a monster, but…if he taught you to see the world that way… I don’t know.” She blinked, eyes drifting away, before deliberately fixing on him again. “Van, do you judge me? For what I’ve done? And…for how it doesn’t get to me, like it does to you?”

“No. Never.” He shook his head, helplessly. “I couldn’t…” He swayed, forced himself upright again. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

“Maybe you should.” There was a harsh edge to her voice. She let go of his shoulder, scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “…Sorry, Van. Shouldn’t put my guilt on you. It’s mine to bear.”

 _You understand so much more than I ever thought you would_. He reached for the wine-bottle again.

Lissa put a hand over his. “Think you’ve had enough, actually.”

“…Really?” He raised his eyebrows, or tried, his face was half-numb. “Fancy you say’n that, Liss…”

“Well, if you can make it the next half-candlemark without vomiting on my bed, I’ll give it back to you.” She untangled his fingers from the neck of the bottle, and stood, taking it and setting it on her shelf. “I’ll bring you some water – no, don’t try to stand up, I’ve got it.”

He had already decided against it. The bed seemed to be moving under him.

 _:’Fandes:_ he reached. He could sense her, listening quietly in the back of his mind, but she hadn’t spoken up at all for a while.

 _:Steady, Chosen:_ Her light flowed around him. _:You’re all right. I’m here:_

* * *

When Vanyel woke up, he couldn’t remember where he was. Or why his head hurt so much. He was lying on his side, and even though he was completely stationary, it felt like everything was swaying.

He pulled apart sticky eyelids, whimpering as the pale light seemed to stab through his brain. _What?_ Old curtains, rough un-dyed homespun. A battered shield hanging on the wall. Lissa’s room, he thought vaguely, still muzzy.

 _:’Fandes?:_ he tried.

 _:Good morning, Chosen:_ Affection, and amusement. _:How are you feeling?:_

 _:Incredibly hungover:_ Even Mindspeaking made him dizzy. _:Whose idea was that?:_

_:Lissa’s, mostly:_

He took deep breaths through his nose, trying to ignore his stomach. _:Why did you let me…?:_

_:Why didn’t I intervene? It seemed like you were having an important conversation, for one. And you were relaxed for the first time in ages:_

He did feel a lot less tense, there was that. Although he never, ever wanted to move again. Now that he was paying attention, he could sense Lissa’s drowsing mind behind him. She didn’t seem inclined to disturb him.

 _:How much of it do you remember?:_ Yfandes added.

 _:Give me a minute:_ He was still trying to piece together the fragments. _:We were talking about Leareth. I told her about the dream, his plan. What I was scared would happen. Last thing I really remember is, she said I cared so much, and I said, not as much as Leareth:_ Even thinking about it brought tears to his eyes.

 _:There was a good deal more after that. Things you needed to say to someone. And needed to hear from her. I think it was very good, and I’m not sure you would have gotten there without being falling-down drunk first. I’ll take you through it later, when you’re feeling better. Jog your memory:_ She sent a wordless wash of love. _:Why don’t you drink some water and then try to get more sleep?:_


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_:Come in, ke’chara:_

Savil opened it just before Vanyel could knock, slipping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him through. “Lunch isn’t quite here yet,” she said out loud, “but it shouldn’t be long. Figured you wouldn’t want to go to the dining-hall. Sit?”

He sagged gratefully into the chair she pulled out for him, and she stood behind him for a moment, stroking his hair.

 _:How was your morning?:_ he sent finally. His had been uneventful; he had gone for another ride with Yfandes, taken a bath, and talked to Melody for half a candlemark. Despite having done so little, he was tired; he hadn’t slept well, it had been the first night alone in his room. Two days since the announcement to the Senior Circle. Ten days since it had all started. At least he was finally recovered from his godawful hangover.

Savil sighed, releasing him, and dragged over another chair. _:Too much time wasted on routine work and Web-alarms. I can’t deny it’s important, and Kilchas and Sandra can’t hold everything together on their own. Just…:_

 _:I know:_ He could understand the desire to set everything aside, deal with the most important questions – and they couldn’t, because this emergency wasn’t going away anytime sooner.

 _:Melody thinks I can start picking up some of the routine work in a week:_ he added. He had discreetly tested out all of his Gifts, and everything worked except his Farsight – alarmed, he had asked her, and she had confessed that she must have partially blocked it by accident along with his Foresight. It would make dealing with Web-alarms much harder, but it was a low enough price to pay.

 _:I don’t want you pushing yourself before you’re ready, ke’chara:_ Concern in Savil’s mindvoice, but she was clearly relieved as well.

Vanyel, for his part, was just glad that Randi had approved it at all. _He trusts me that far, at least._

Or maybe he didn’t see any choice. They had so few mages, and no new trainees. Maybe Leareth was meddling somehow, it was by far the simplest explanation – but how? Like he had said, the man wasn’t responsible for the _vrondi_ , even if their conversations had given Vanyel the inspiration he needed for some of the Web-design overall.

Had they been wrong about the cause of their problem, all these years?

Savil laid a hand over his. _:You’re worrying, aren’t you? Stop. Let’s talk about something else:_

She seemed more perceptive lately, he thought, more responsive to his moods. Maybe a result of the candlemarks they had spent together in a room with their shields down.

 _:You met with Shallan and Joshel about the Collegium?:_ he sent. It bothered him, not having been there – so much of the concept behind the new Heraldic education system had been his contribution.

No. Not his. Leareth’s. He understood why Randi was hesitant to have him involved; the pain of it had faded to a dull ache, now.

 _:I did. It went fine. Shallan thinks we can cut the standard curriculum from five years to three, and have trainees going out for supervised field-experience after that:_ A twisted, bitter smile. _:We’ll lose a few more of them, sending them out like baby ducks, but it’s not like we’ve got any shortage of trainees:_

It wasn’t funny – it was awful – but Vanyel returned her dark chuckle. _We’ve got to find something to laugh at, or we’ll go mad._

A pause, and he felt something like surprise echoing down the link. _:We haven’t had an uptick in trainees this past year or two:_ Savil sent, thoughtful. _:There was the big influx around five years ago, but really, that was mostly replacing people we lost. And Companion births haven’t gone up at all. There was a massive increase before the last war, you know. Around the year you were Chosen. Foals who were old enough to Choose four or five years later, and the trainees were going into Whites by the time Elspeth died:_

Hard to know what that meant. It was known – or widely believed, at least – that Heralds were Chosen who would be needed down the line, and people would speculate on any change in the number of trainees. Vanyel had never really thought about how that would work. Was it through the blue place, the strange almost-Foresight of Companions? It wasn’t like they could cause Gifted children to be born… At least, he assumed not. He hadn’t really thought about that either.

Which of his assumptions was he still forgetting to question?

There was a knock at the door.

“Must be lunch,” Savil said, scraping her chair back. “I’ll get it.”

Vanyel turned, draping an arm over the back of his chair and watching vaguely as she unbolted and opened the door.

Which was why, a moment later, he found himself staring straight at his father. Standing in the doorway, cheeks red from the cold, clad in wrinkled riding leathers with bits of snow still in his cloak.

Withen’s eyes darted, landed on him, and stopped. Vanyel froze, unable to look away. _Oh, gods._ It was the last thing he was ready to handle right now.

Unfortunately, it was too late to flee to the bedroom, or conceal himself under a hasty illusion.

 _:Steady, Chosen:_ Yfandes sent, soothing.

Savil paused for only a moment. “Welcome,” she said, holding out her hand. “You’re here sooner than we expected. Made good time on the road?”

“Savil.” Father’s voice was gruff, and his eyes still looked past his sister, locked on Vanyel. “It’s good to see you.” And, to Vanyel’s surprise, instead of gripping her arm, he took her hand and bent to kiss it. “I’ve heard very good things about your work here.”

Vanyel was glued to his chair, his pulse hammering in his ears and his mind still trying to catch up. Remember to breathe. _Center and ground._

“You must have ridden ahead?” Savil said. “Your carriage would take weeks, the way the weather’s been.”

“No, no.” Withen smiled, a little stiffly. “I convinced Treesa we didn’t need _all_ of her gowns immediately. She managed with a few pack-mules. Meke will send along a couple of cartloads come spring. In the meantime, every week we delayed meant another week King Randale was short a man on his Council.”

“I suppose so.” Savil took a step back. “Well, do come in.” A pause. “We? You don’t mean you convinced Lady Treesa to ride in winter?”

“The conditions were fine.” Father smiled, almost conspiratorially. “She was very excited to see the Court again. It’s been decades.”

Only that? _I can’t think when Mother was last in Haven._ She must have been presented to Queen Elspeth at some point, but it could well have been before her marriage, thirty-five years ago. She hadn’t accompanied Withen when he made his brief one-day visit to swear fealty to Randale.

“Where is she, then?” Savil said.

Withen took a step into the room, and hesitated, scuffing his boots. “She wanted to wash up,” he said. “Didn’t think she was presentable after we rode all morning.”

Which sounded just like Mother. Father, of course, wouldn’t care that he was shedding mud and snow all over Savil’s floor.

There was a lull. Savil had paused by the sideboard, fiddling with the curtains, and Withen stood near the doorway, his eyes fixed on a point just above Vanyel’s head. Expectant.

 _:’Fandes:_ Vanyel sent, unsure what he was asking for.

 _:You can do this, love:_ She reached in closer, her light bolstering him.

Somehow, Vanyel found the will to move. He stood. “Father.” Took a step. Gods, what was he even supposed to say? “We’re honoured to have you here.” Which was true, and not at all the same thing as ‘glad’.

“Son.” Father ducked his head, a deeper red staining his cheeks. He reached to grip Vanyel’s arm. “The honour is mine.”

There was an awkward silence.

Withen released his arm. “Is King Randale working you too hard? Don’t take this the wrong way, Vanyel, but you look like hell.”

Behind him, Savil made a sound that might have been stifled laughter.

 _:Shut up, aunt:_ “I’m fine, Father. I’ve…been ill, but I’m doing better now. You look very well.” Which was true. More like Savil’s son than her brother, really – skin weathered but almost unwrinkled, barely a hint of grey at his temples, his brown hair still thick.

Cast about for something to say. “Are you getting settled all right? Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“Don’t worry about that, son. Randale assigned us a whole suite. Furnished and everything.” A slightly forced smile. “Though Treesa does hate the drapes. I hope your Randale won’t be offended if we redecorate.”

Randi was unlikely to ever know, Vanyel thought; it wasn’t like he would have personally picked out a room for a minor noble joining his Council. He was a little surprised any preparations had happened – had they known Withen was on his way? The news must have arrived after Yfandes left, or he would surely have known about it.

So much had been happening, and still, rooms were aired out and furnished, meals arrived on schedule, and the beds got made. What a world.

 _No one thought to tell me._ Which bothered him – Savil at least should have predicted that he wouldn’t like being caught unawares like this. Now he remembered that the message he had drafted to his father had gone out not long before the whole thing had started, but it had entirely slipped his mind.

 _:I’m sorry about that:_ Yfandes sent. _:I just checked around, and Rolan knew – Dara dealt with the letter. She didn’t think to warn Savil, let alone you. Everyone was quite distracted:_

He returned wordless gratitude. It wasn’t Yfandes’ fault, that no one had told him; she hadn’t even been there.

More chagrin, washing along their bond. _:I’m sorry, love:_

 _:Later, ‘Fandes:_ Her guilt was distracting him. Try to find the thread of his thoughts again. “I should tell Lissa you’ve arrived,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as lifeless to Father as it did to his own ears. “She’ll be delighted to see you.”

Withen bobbed his head. “Yes, of course. We’ve been hearing a great deal about her as well.” For a moment his eyes went distant. “My own daughter. A general. Never thought I’d see the day. And they’ve kept her so busy, haven’t had the chance to congratulate her face-to-face on winning the Battle of Sunhame.” A pause, and his eyelids flickered. “Not to neglect your part in it, son.”

 _Sunhame._ Vanyel tried to hide the shadow from his face; that battle was the last thing he wanted to talk about with Father, who never had mentioned any word of it in his letters. After a moment, the awkwardness seemed to catch up to Withen as well; he frowned, and shuffled his feet.

Surely there was _something_ he could bring up, to change the topic, but his mind had gone blank.

“Son…” Withen’s voice was odd, gruff and choked at the same time. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and the back of his neck was visibly reddening. “I never said… I’m sorry. Can’t have been easy, the way it fell out.”

For a moment Vanyel was frozen, unable to think of anything at all to say.

“For what it’s worth…” Withen’s shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “I know you wouldn’t’ve done it if you had any other choice.”

Vanyel’s cheeks were flaming. It felt very hard to breathe. “Thank you,” he managed to stammer out.”

Silence reigned.

“Oh!” Savil said finally. “I’ll send a note to Medren. He’s quite fond of Lady Treesa. I’m sure he would like to pay her a visit.”

“Medren!” Withen’s smile was genuine enough, and his shoulders almost sagged, his relief at the distraction clear. “Of course. She adores the lad. She, er, we’ve missed his music a great deal.”

“He’s quite incredible now,” Vanyel said. “Four years at Bardic. It really shows.” Though his extra training would be wasted on Treesa. She loved music, but her tastes weren’t exactly highbrow.

The corners of Withen’s eyes creased. “I like to think I did right by the boy…?”

“You did, Father.” Vanyel nodded firmly. “You did exactly right.”

Silence.

“I know you’re very busy,” Withen said. His eyes had settled on the curtains. “I’d best let you both get back to your duties.” He glanced sideways at Vanyel again; his shoulders were back, spine erect, pride and confidence – but something more like pleading in his eyes. “Your mother would like a chance to greet you, tonight.”

“Of course. I’ll come by.” He would find the energy for it somehow. _Gods, I don’t want to deal with Mother right now._ She would fuss over him, and chatter, and it would be exhausting. “Take care, Father.”

“You too, son.”

Withen gripped his arm again, and then took a step away, and moments later the door was closing on his departing back.

Vanyel sagged against the wall, closing his eyes. _Thank the gods that’s over._

 _:Ke’chara:_ He felt Savil’s hand on his shoulder. _:Are you all right?:_

 _:Need a minute:_ He covered his face, staring into the dark tunnel of his cupped hands. _:’Fandes:_

_:I’m here, Chosen:_

He took another deep breath. _Center and ground._ “Sorry,” he said out loud, lowering his hands.

There was concern in Savil’s eyes. “It’s not really a good time to have them here, is it?”

“No, it’s fine.” He let her take his arm and guide him back to his seat. “Just caught me off guard.”

“Gods, me too.”A flash of irritation in her eyes, that quickly faded. “If it were any other time, I’d be biting someone’s head off for this, but Dara doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, not at all.” Vanyel tried to smile.

“She’s a good kid,” Savil said quietly. “We’re lucky to have her.”

* * *

The sun was touching the horizon, and Mama still wasn’t home. Jisa had set the table herself, and called a page for supper, but she was starting to worry that _everyone_ had forgotten they were supposed to come to supper.

Another two days had passed. Jisa had been very, very good, being polite to Beri and doing all of her homework without argument, listening attentively and working hard in her lessons with Melody, trying to be as kind and warm with Mama and Papa as she could without being needy. And then spending her free time running about the Palace – which wouldn’t be suspicious, at least, she had done it for years – talking to all of the servants and Heralds and Guards, acting younger than she was, hoping to overhear any and all snippets that might shine more light on what was happening.

Not that she had gathered anything useful yet, and even Stef was at a loss.

Mama didn’t suspect a thing. Neither did Papa, though she had only seen him once; he had sent a note asking her to come over to his rooms, which he never did and had left her panicking that he had somehow found her out, but when she arrived all out of breath he had just waved her over, invited her to sit on the side of his bed and snuggle, and then taken out a whole _pile_ of books and asked which one she wanted him to read to her. They were books for a littler girl than she was now, but Jisa hadn’t minded at all, or minded the fact that afterwards, all relaxed and sleepy, she had to make her way back to her room in Mama’s quarters. It had been _years_ since Papa ever put her to bed, and if this wasn’t the same, well, at least it was something. He had kissed her head and said he loved her, and the glow in her chest had kept her warm through the snow and wind on the path to Healers’.

Papa might have read her a storybook more appropriate for an eight-year-old, but he did seem to know she was a big girl now; he hadn’t said she needed a servant to walk her home. Which was right. Kayla wouldn’t let her carry daggers yet like Mama did, but Jisa knew her Gifts were more than enough to defend herself, even if Melody always frowned and said Empathy wasn’t a weapon.

And now she was going to see Starwind and Moondance, properly! They had apparently been very busy; she had seen Moondance very briefly, once, in the hallway on his way to the meeting-rooms, but he had only patted her shoulder and rushed past. If she had been Stef, maybe she would have snuck after him and found a way to listen in, but she either wasn’t brave or wasn’t stupid enough. She hadn’t quite decided which.

Jisa had her shields thinned a little, and finally, she sensed the glow of two approaching minds. She jumped up, eagerly, and ran to open the door.

“Starwind! Moondance!”

Moondance was carrying both of their bond birds, his Daria on his shoulder and Starwind’s Aysheena on his arm.

 _:Hi Daria!:_ Jisa sent. _:Hi Aysheena!:_

 _:Friend!:_ Daria dived from Moondance’s shoulder towards her. Despite herself, Jisa yelped and ducked, and then sensed the edges of the bird’s…not quite laughter, it wasn’t so human as that, but something like amusement.

Aysheena was more dignified; she waited for Moondance to set her down, and waddled towards the window. She was getting quite old and stiff, Jisa thought. Birds of prey always looked so funny on the ground.

Moondance held out his arms, and when she stepped into them, he picked her up and swung her around, grunting with exaggerated effort. “Aiii! You are so big now! You are to be a grown woman soon, I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m almost eleven now,” Jisa said proudly, in Tayledras, as he set her down. “Starwind, may I hug you?” He was standing in the doorway, cane gripped in one hand. With him, it seemed appropriate to ask, even though with Moondance it would have seemed silly.

“You may.” He smiled, fondly, though one side of his lips still moved more sluggishly than the other. “Is good to see you.” The words came slowly, with pauses, but barely slurred at all.

She put her arms around him, more carefully than she had with Moondance. “I missed you, Starwind.”

“We have missed you in the Vale also,” Moondance said.

That gave Jisa a warm, bright feeling in her throat. She smiled at both of them. “Come sit down! Is Mama coming, do you know?”

“Soon,” Moondance said. “She is with your papa now.”

“Then let’s sit on the sofa.” She offered Starwind her arm; she was tall enough now for that to be useful at all. “So we can all eat together.” The food was ready, but covered so it would stay warm. “I’m so glad you got to meet my papa,” she added. “Isn’t he a very good King?”

“He is,” Moondance said. Starwind didn’t answer, he seemed very focused on his feet, but they made it to the sofa without any mishaps.

“Starwind?” Jisa said, sitting down next to him. “May I Look at your mind?” She had been itching to do exactly that ever since he had walked in, but it was polite to ask first.

He nodded.

 _:Moondance:_ she sent. _:You can share my Sight if you want:_ It seemed like maybe he would want to see as well.

 _:I would like that, child:_ He ruffled her hair, and then sat down next to Starwind. Jisa closed her eyes, and opened her shields to him, holding out a mental hand and pulling him in close. Then she let her Sight unfurl, the world opening into new colours.

She had lowered those innermost shields, but this time, she kept some of her other shields up, holding in her thoughts. It was the first time she’d had any kind of secret from Moondance, and it hurt.

 _:Oh:_ she sighed. Starwind’s mind _was_ different from the last time. There were so many new pathways, trails and ropes of vines, strong and robust, where before there had been only sparse new growth. And there were still patches of darkness, bare rock where Mama hadn’t been able or hadn’t had time to make plants grow again, but for the most part there were detours that routed around them. Slower, in many cases, and less reliable, but workable.

She was so proud that she might have burst, and she wasn’t sure if she was proud of Starwind or Mama or herself or all of them. Moondance’s half-incredulous joy was right there next to her, and it felt like her chest was full of sunlight. 

“Starwind, your mind is so much better now,” she said, a little breathlessly, opening her eyes without dropping her Othersight. “Are there still things that bother you?” There were still a lot of places that could use fixing, in her opinion, but Melody said it was better to ask people what _they_ wanted as a first step.

Starwind looked over at Moondance, then back to her. “One thing. Is easier to be distracted. I see something, or hear, and lose my thoughts.” 

Moondance smiled, almost a smirk. “Or if he is very focused, he will not even hear me speaking to him! And he is forgetful. If he is trying to remember one thing, he will struggle to remember a second thing as well.” 

“Oh. That makes sense.” The paying-attention-on-purpose function of his mind had been damaged, and there were so many pathways that had been deep-engrained before, things he could do without having to pay attention at all, that would now take effort. She hadn’t tried to fix that exact problem before, but she had worked with patients who had problems that were sort of related. Sometimes it was because something very bad had happened to them and anything that was a reminder of it was very startling and made them forget what they had been doing before; sometimes it was just because they had thoughts that were very loud and distracting. It wasn’t an _easy_ kind of problem to fix, but Jisa didn’t mind things just because they were hard.

“I can ask my teacher to come look at your mind later, if you want,” she said. “And I’ll try something now that might help?” She hesitated. “Only if you want me to.”

 _:Please:_ Moondance sent. _:We trust you:_

“You may,” Starwind said out loud.

“All right!” She closed her eyes. _:Moondance, look here:_ And she focused in, a feeling like falling, her Sight shrinking to a particular place. Find the damage. It was hard to see; he wasn’t using that part now. “Starwind,” she said out loud. “Um, ‘the horse stood under the tree at midnight.’” Start simple, only a few concepts to remember – the type of animal, the place, the time. “Try to remember that sentence for me.”

She watched the vines ripple and light up.

“Good,” she said. _:Moondance:_ she sent, along their private link. _:Do something to distract him:_

Moondance nodded, eyes twinkling – and then his hand darted into to tickle Starwind’s ribs.

“ _Ashke_!” Starwind yelped, squirming away. “What–” His mind was slipping into disarray, the pattern disrupted.

“Remember the sentence,” Jisa prompted. “Do you still have it?”

Starwind made a face at her. “Horse. Tree.”

“At midnight,” Jisa added, watching the pattern re-stabilize. “Now I want you to remember it and count to ten at the same time…”

About ten minutes later, Jisa opened her eyes and let go of the link with Moondance. “That should be a little better. If you want it to be a lot better, I would have to come back and add to it over a long time.” There was always a limit to how many connections she could build at one time, and that was especially true for Starwind – the ‘soil’ of his mind was still thinner, less fertile. Metaphorically.

It hadn’t been very interesting, but Jisa had learned that the things that were the most interesting and the things that were the most helpful weren’t always the same.

“How long are you visiting for?” she added, very innocently. “I could do more tomorrow, but I would want to plan what to work on and that depends how many days I have.” She really did want to know, but it was also a good pretext to fish for information on the reason _why_ they were here. Even if they didn’t actually tell her anything, their reactions to being asked might be very informative.

“We were not sure at first,” Moondance said, flashing a smile. “I think we are to stay another ten days. Perhaps we shall come again once it is spring. ”

Jisa kept her voice very casual. “For the spring festival?” she guessed. “That would be fun.” True – it was one of her favourite festivities, second only to Midwinter – but not the main point. Harvestfest and the spring festival were when Karis came to visit Haven, and there were always a lot of strategy-meetings. She had overheard Mama talking about it with Herald Tantras, who had come over once while she was doing her homework and pretending to be absorbed in it.

It was odd, for them to already be planning it months before, and maybe that was significant. If there was something very big that had happened, maybe Randi wouldn’t have wanted to just send Queen Karis a letter – maybe he wanted to tell her face to face. If he wanted Starwind and Moondance there as well, what did that mean?

“It is possible,” Moondance allowed. “It would depend on matters in the Vale, and whether we might leave again so soon.”

Jisa smiled brightly again. “Well, I hope it works out and you can come. I think it would make Uncle Van very happy.”

Starwind and Moondance glanced at each other. Jisa still had her Sight open and receptive, she hadn’t shielded again and she hoped they would think she had just forgotten. She Saw how the friendship/loyalty/caretaking part of Moondance’s mind lit up, and with her Empathy receptive as well, she picked up the wash of concern from him.

_They’re still worried about him._

“Did you know that Uncle Van’s parents came to Haven?” she said. “I heard that they got here today. Did you meet them?” Jisa didn’t actually know if that had anything to do with whatever was going on, or if the timing was a coincidence. She vaguely remembered hearing Mama and Papa talk about Vanyel’s father replacing one of the other lords on the council, which must have been before all the rest happened because Papa hadn’t eaten dinner with her since then.

“Yes, our Wingbrother said this,” Moondance said. “I have not yet met them.” His voice was neutral, and a little distant, like he wasn’t very interested. Which made it sound more like it wasn’t related.

“Oh, well, I hope it isn’t too stressful for Uncle Van,” she said lightly.

Moondance raised an eyebrow, curious. “What do you mean?”

Had she been too obvious? Jisa tried not to squirm. “Just, I know they’ll want to see him lots, and he’s very busy.”

“And does not find their company to be restful.” Moondance ran a hand through his hair. “It is a difficult thing.”

“Yes, it’s sad.” That was the sort of thing she would normally say, right? Jisa knew that other people thought she blurted whatever was on her mind, but now she wasn’t sure if it _was_ the sort of thing she would say, or if it would make Moondance suspicious. _This is so hard._ She hated having to think over every single thing she said. It was all fine for Stef, he had practice. _I don’t know if he’s ever said something to anyone without calculating it first._

Jisa liked Stef, but a few things about him were deeply baffling to her.

She realized she had been silent for quite a long time, and Moondance was watching her. He seemed to think something was odd – maybe because it was rare that Jisa didn’t have anything to say _._ She racked her brain for something. “It must be very nice for you to see my mama again,” she said. “She missed you. Has she had any time to help you, Starwind?”

Starwind shook his head.

“There has not been time,” Moondance said. “Perhaps there will be.” He didn’t seem very convinced, though.

Yet again, Jisa couldn’t think of anything to say. She wanted to just _ask_ Moondance… Well, actually, was there any reason she couldn’t? If anything, it might be _more_ suspicious, that she wasn’t curious.

Blurt it before she lost her courage. “Moondance, why are you here?”

A long pause. “I cannot speak of it, child.” He reached out and took her hand. “I am sorry. It is a matter that concerns the Heralds.”

 _I’m not stupid either._ Jisa kept those words to herself. It was exactly what she should have expected, but it still hurt.

* * *

Vanyel was sitting at his desk, staring vaguely at the papers in front of him, when he heard the knock. Savil had finally returned his notes to him, after Dara finished making copies of everything. At some point he was supposed to meet with her and fill in the blanks, but Melody wanted him to put that off for a few weeks.

“I’m coming!” he said, standing. At least he had more energy today; he had even spent a while in the salle with Shavri. With sword and not daggers, this time, and it was a little terrifying, sparring with Shavri when she had Need in her hand. He had noticed that she wore the thing everywhere, now, and hadn’t quite found the right words to ask what had changed.

Twelve days. It hadn’t felt like things could ever go back to normal – and they weren’t, by any stretch of the imagination – but he was, somehow, starting to get used to it. Learning to bear the ever-present screaming pit of terror, and think through it.

He unbolted the door, and opened it. “…Tran?”

“Vanyel.” Tantras stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes set on a point above Vanyel’s head. “I wanted to talk. If now’s a good time.”

“Now’s fine.” Vanyel wasn’t sure of that at all – his heart was already hammering – but it wasn’t like a different time would be better. “Can I offer you anything? Wine?”

“That would be nice, thank you.” Tran’s voice was stiff, almost painfully polite, but he did seem to relax just a little as he crossed the threshold and pulled the door shut.

He hadn’t been over in two years, Vanyel though with something like wonder.

Pouring the watered wine for both of them, and dragging over the padded wicker chair from his bedroom for Tran to sit on, filled a couple of minutes. When it was done, both of them sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

“Some things I want to say.” There was a rote quality to Tran’s voice. “Listen, Van… Don’t get me wrong. I still think we need to take the war to Leareth yesterday. I’m still worried he got to you. I don’t trust your judgement right now, I don’t think you should be coming to our strategy-meetings, and I don’t especially want to hear your arguments to the contrary, because I’ve got to assume your reasoning comes straight from Leareth. I’m not willing to back down on that.”

It didn’t hurt as much as he had expected, to hear it. Vanyel nodded. “Understood.”

Tran paused, and lifted the cup to his mouth, downing a long swallow. “But,” he said finally. “What Moondance said, in the Work Room… Guess it got me thinking. I talked to Melody. And, just… Figure he’s right. Whatever else happened, you’re still a Herald. Still a goddamned human being.” His breath caught. “I swore an oath, you know? To bring aid to those who suffer, to heal the wrongs… For the land and people of Valdemar. And you’re one of the people, Van.”

Echoes of a conversation with Melody, years ago. Vanyel ducked his head, blinking away tears.

Tran was frowning. “Still think you crossed a line, but...not the final line, you know? Randi could have ordered you exiled. He didn’t, and I thought about it, and I agree with his decision. There’s a part of you that’s still on our side.” A gusty sigh. “And it’s more Taver’s fault than yours, really. Hellfires, or maybe Taver was right and it really all needed to happen this way. I asked Melody what she thought, and she said the gods are meddling here and all bets are off when that happens. Looked ready to spit nails about it, too.”

Despite the aching lump in his throat, Vanyel found himself choking on a snort of laughter. “Sounds like Melody.”

Tran’s forehead creased, an expression that Vanyel couldn’t interpret. “She’d do almost anything to protect you. But not just you. She’ll fight for me as well. She has. Even though you and I’ve been at odds for years. We’re both just people to her. I mean, I knew that before, and it never made me trust her less.”

Silence. Vanyel took a sip of his own wine, trying to think of something, anything, to say. His mind seemed to have locked up.

 _:Steady, Chosen:_ Yfandes sent. _:You don’t need to say anything yet. Just listen. That’s all he’s asking:_

“Something Dara said,” Tran went on finally. “We were talking, and…she just looked me in the eye, and said she could tell I loved you, and maybe that’s why I was so damned angry. Why it hurt so much. And…you know, she’s not wrong.” He shook his head again, a lock of hair slipping into his eyes. “I told myself for a long time that I didn’t care anymore. That I couldn’t be friends with someone who’d used blood-power. That part doesn’t even seem important anymore, it’s small compared to the rest. We sent you out there to win a war for us, and you did what you had to.” He closed his eyes. “When you said that you can’t walk away… You were telling the truth, even if it makes my head hurt, hearing all your goddamned caveats, like everything you say is a legal contract.” A scowl. “I know you’re cleverer than me. You always were.”

Vanyel opened his mouth to protest, and closed it. _Just listen._

“I don’t know.” Tran held up his hands, helplessly. “Just – Van, I never stopped caring about you. And…if I can’t separate you as a person from your ideas, if I have to hate you to defend myself – gods, maybe that’s a weakness in me. I don’t want to be that person.” A shuddering breath. “It’s not going to be the same, maybe it never will be, but…friends?”

Vanyel closed his eyes against the prickling tears. No, it wasn’t going to be the same. Nothing was. “Maybe,” he whispered. “We can try.”

* * *

Medren turned the message over in his hands, reading it for the third time. _You are Cordially Invited to join us for Supper in our New Home. I would be Delighted to see you, and I am sure you would be Pleased to be amongst Family. If you wish you are welcome to bring a Guest or Two. Our table is Very Large._

Pink paper, and purple ink. It hurt his eyes to look at. “Oh, Treesa,” he said under his breath. “Never change.” He had paid a visit to her first thing, and the suite they had been assigned was in fact very lavish. About a thousand times fancier than Uncle Van’s rooms. He wondered, vaguely, if Vanyel had invited his parents over yet, and exactly how appalled his lady-mother might have been by his limited taste in decor.

Treesa was probably bursting with pride over her new quarters; when he had joined her for tea, she had politely interrupted their conversation three times to speak to servants about ordering various decorations, and to organize a shopping-trip to the market. She must have been working at a whirlwind pace – it was only three days since their arrival, and she had decided the rooms were ready to show off, at least to close family. The invitation was for tomorrow night.

“Might as well go,” he murmured to himself, running his fingertip over the broken seal. “It’ll make you so happy.”

The door opened.

“Make who so happy?” Stef said, shedding his cloak onto the floor.

Medren made a face. “Stef, can you _not_ leave your things on the floor? That’s my side.”

“Sorry.” Stef used his foot to scrape the offending cloak over onto his side of the imaginary line that divided their room in two. “What were you talking to yourself about?”

Medren held up the invitation. “Grandmama invited me for supper. She says I can bring a guest. Want to come?” It would be a pleasanter evening that way, he thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lady Treesa – he was quite fond of her – but she could be a lot to handle. Stef at least liked attention.

Stef went still, his face freezing, then flashing through half-a-dozen subtle expressions. “That’s your Uncle Van’s parents?” he said.

“That is how uncles work.” Medren tossed the letter down on his bedspread.

“Will Vanyel be there?”

“Don’t have the faintest idea.” Of course Lady Treesa would invite her son; the open question was whether he would actually go. Medren could guess that he wouldn’t be enthused by the idea, but…well, it was significant, that his parents had moved to Haven so that Withen could take up a seat on the Council. Uncle Van wouldn’t want to snub him.

“Probably,” he allowed. “But no promises, so don’t be disappointed.” He was still trying to figure out Stef’s expression. “…Are you fishing to get him to pay attention to you?” And something that had just occurred to him. “Stef, you can come, but on the condition that you _absolutely do not_ try to flirt with Uncle Van in front of his parents.”

“Why not?”

“One, because you’re _fourteen–”_

“Hey! Almost fifteen!” Stef interjected, balanced on one foot as he pulled off his boot.

“That’s not any better! And secondly, it would humiliate him in front of his father, which I’m assuming you wouldn’t want to do, since you seem to think highly of him and it would hurt his feelings.”

Stef folded his arms. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Medren flung up his hands. “I can ask nicely, can’t I? That’s something friends can do.”

Stef hesitated, then smiled brightly. “Of course. I won’t make a scene.” He padded over to his bed and flung himself down. “How many guests did she say you could bring?”

“Two, actually.” Medren frowned. “Who else would you invite?” It wasn’t like he had a best friend among the students, other than Stef. He got on well enough with several, but it would be hard to choose between them, and he didn’t want to snub any of the others by inviting only one of them.

“What about Jisa?”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to him, but it was true that she and Stef seemed to have become close. Good for Stef. His roommate had many, many acquaintances, but relatively few real friends.

And Jisa had the advantage of being adorable and charming. She would have his grandmother wrapped around her little finger in no time, and maybe take some of the pressure off him and Stef.

“That seems fine to me,” Medren said. “Want to ask Breda to send her a message?” The Bardic students didn’t have their own access to Palace pages and message-deliveries, but Breda would never tell Stef no.

“I was going to see her after supper,” Stef said.

Medren glanced over at the window. It was already quite late. “I hope you’re not encouraging her to sneak out.”

“No!” Stef’s face was a study in affronted innocence. “She has her parents’ permission to come visit the Bardic library. And I’ll go there and walk her over, and back. Not that she needs it, but you know.”

Medren smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I believe you.”

His roommate scowled. “You just think I’m a bad influence.”

Medren laughed. “Stef. You’re a bad influence on me too. I don’t mind. Just as long as you don’t get her in actual trouble.”

“I wouldn’t! Medren, do you think I want the King mad at me?”

...That was a fair point. Maybe Stef was finally developing some common sense. 

* * *

“Van, seriously.” Lissa lounged against the wall. “How long can it possibly take you to get dressed? We’re going to be late.”

“I’m working on it!” Vanyel was holding up a dark blue-green tunic against his body, examining himself in the mirror. “I don’t know if this colour suits me.”

“No one cares, Van. You know Mother and Father don’t have any taste.”

“I care.” He stared for a few moments longer. “It’ll do. It’s better than the purple, I don’t know what I was thinking with that.” He hadn’t worn either of them in, gods, maybe years. _When do I ever have time to dress up in something that isn’t Whites?_ Even when Lissa took him out to taverns, he usually didn’t bother to change.

“Thank the gods.” Lissa straightened up. “Van, do you have any wine?”

“…You want to get drunk _before_ dinner?”

A lithe shrug of one bare shoulder. “Might make me less likely to push Mother out a window. You know she gets on my nerves.”

Vanyel held up his hands. “Do whatever you want, then. There should be something or other in my cabinet. I’m going to get dressed.”

He closed his bedroom door, and took a moment to breathe in and out. _Center and ground._ He had been trying not to think too hard about this upcoming engagement. Even in the best case, it was going to be stressful and tiring, and he couldn’t truthfully claim to be too busy. _I’m hardly doing anything._

It had been sheer relief that carried him through, at first. The other shoe had finally dropped. No one was very happyabout it, but they hadn’t fully denounced him either, and his last meeting with Randi, the morning after the announcement had gone out to the Senior Circle, had left him feeling almost hopeful. Randi had presented a sanitized version of the truth – which Vanyel was grateful for and uncomfortable about at the same time – and it sounded like it had gone over smoothly enough. They had seven more minds working on this now.

And Tantras. The rift between them was so far from healed, and conversations were still strained and awkward, but yesterday they had sparred together in the salle, and it had been almost like old times. _It’s fine as long as I don’t open my big mouth._

There was the joy that Yfandes was back, and as close to fully with him as he could possibly have asked. It had buoyed him for days. Every time he reached for her and she was just _there_ , it felt like a gift. When she spoke into his mind unbidden, listening to his surface thoughts and offering advice and support, sometimes it was still jarring but lately it was easier to set that aside. He had counted on that for so many years, and then forgotten what it was like to have it.

Maybe that was why at first, it had been easy, on a gut-deep level, to feel hopeful.

But the problems were still there; the most important question of all was still unanswered. Two full weeks had passed, now, and it felt like he had made no progress at all. He was stuck. Crushed between two opposing cliffs, duty and responsibility, a silver cord that meant he could never walk away – even if he had no idea what that meant anymore. It felt overwhelming. Inescapable.

 _I’m not the right person for this._ If he was smarter, more experienced, better, surely he would be able to figure it out. Surely he would have handled it all better, and not gotten himself into a situation where just getting the King to take him seriously would be an uphill battle.

 _‘Lendel, what would you think?_ The grief rose in a tide, and he tried to breathe through it, blinking back tears, damn it but he wasn’t going to show up at a family supper red-eyed and blotchy from weeping.

 _:Love, are you sure you’re up for this?:_ Yfandes sent. _:Maybe you should talk to Melody:_

 _:Don’t have time. We’re already going to be late:_ And he had disrupted Melody’s life enough – he knew she was still playing catch-up after the week he had demanded most of her attention.

 _:You know what Melody would say about that:_ Yfandes sent.

Fair enough. Melody had told him to Mindtouch her anytime. He had taken advantage of that offer once already, and she had dropped whatever else she was supposed to be doing, in the middle of the day, and talked to him for two candlemarks. He wasn’t about to impose on her again unless it was really and truly an emergency, which this wasn’t.

 _:I’ll manage:_ he sent. _:It’s not worth upsetting Mother. I promise I’ll be good and leave if it gets to be too much:_

Yfandes accepted that peace offering; he felt her wash of pride. _:Well, in that case hurry up and get dressed, or else your sister is going to drink ALL of your wine and make a scene at supper:_


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Medren stood outside the door, trying not to fidget. He had donned his formal trainee-uniform – well, the tunic, he had grown two inches since he was last fitted for formal wear and the hose were too short, so he wore his least-threadbare standard pair underneath. The sleeves, decorated with lace, were very itchy.

Stef, next to him, was perfectly still, bright-eyed. His formal tunic from two years ago still fit, better than it had when it was new-to-him; it had been a hand-me-down from an older student. They were both freshly-bathed and scrubbed.

The door opened.

“Medren!” Treesa twittered, hands leaping to her cheeks, before stepping forward to fling her arms around him. “Oh, Medren, it’s so terribly wonderful to see you.” She petted his hair for a moment and then released him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Look at you! All grown up. I can’t believe it!”

She was a little shorter than Uncle Van, and her head was level with his nose. That was a very odd feeling. Other than his mind insisting she had _shrunk_ , rather than his having grown, she didn’t look too different. Slightly deeper crow’s-feet around her eyes, the pouch of skin under her chin a tad looser. It looked like she had finally given up the battle with nature, when it came to her thinning hair, and let it resume its natural colour of silver-gilt.

The gown she was wearing didn’t suit her at all, unfortunately – an elaborate, tasteless confection in various shades of pink and purple. _She looks like a trussed-up Midwinter ham._ A horribly uncharitable thought, that Medren would never dream of saying out loud.

“Lady Treesa,” he said, kissing her hand. “It’s been too long. You look lovely.”

“Thank you!” She coloured, bobbing her head, then turned her silver gaze towards Stef, expectantly.

Medren released her hand and stepped aside. “Grandmama, this is my roommate Stefen.”

Stef stepped forward, and bowed formally. “It’s an honour to meet you, my lady.”

“Please! Call me Treesa!” She extended her arm, and Stef took her hand and kissed it as well, then took both of them by the shoulder. “Now, come in!”

A minute or two later, Medren was seated on one side of the long table, next to Stef, feeling a little buffeted by the whirlwind that was Treesa. _I’m out of practice with her._

“Jisa’s still coming, right?” he whispered to his roommate.

“I told you, Vanyel was going to walk her over.”

Still no sign of him; he must have been running late. Along with everyone else. They were the first ones to arrive.

Treesa rested her hands possessively on the back of Medren’s chair, and called over her shoulder. “Withen! Where are you? Our guests are arriving!”

A deeper voice rumbled out from the direction of the hallway. “I’ll be there soon!”

Some minutes later, Stef was gamely making conversation with Treesa, taking the occasional polite sip from his ornate cup of cider. Medren watched, smiling fondly. _I knew they would get along._ It had only taken Stef a couple of minutes to get his bearings, reading the room, and start charming her. He was listening more than talking, which must have taken a great deal of self-control on his part, since Treesa was currently twittering on and on about the current fashion in hairpieces.

There was another knock at the door.

“Withen, could you?” Treesa called, without moving to stand up.

“I’m _coming_.” Heavy footsteps down the hallway, and Medren’s grandfather emerged, hands still busy lacing his tunic.

“Grandfather,” Medren said politely, scraping his chair back and standing, hesitating awkwardly as Withen walked right past him to open the door.

His aunt Lissa and Uncle Van stood side-by-side in the doorway, and Medren caught glimpse of Whites and silver hair behind them. Then his eyes dropped lower.

“Lord Ashkevron!” Jisa stepped forward, ducking out from under her Uncle Van’s hands, and stuck out her arm. “I’m Jisa! It’s very nice to meet Uncle Van’s family!”

Withen reached to grip her arm, only a little stiffly. “Jisa,” he said. “It’s my pleasure.” He looked back over his shoulder at Treesa, mouthing the words ‘who is she’.

Vanyel rescued him. “Father, Jisa is Healer Shavri’s daughter. Shavri is a close friend, and I’ve known Jisa since she was about this long.” He held out his hands, indicating the size of an infant.

“Stef! Medren!” Jisa darted past Withen. She stopped, then surged forwards, beaming. “Oh! You must be Lady Treesa!”

There was something forced in her enthusiasm, Medren thought, but it was nonetheless effective. Treesa’s expression melted into a smile, and she stood up. “It’s quite lovely to finally meet you, Jisa. Van tells me so much about you.”

Jisa’s expression froze for a half-second.

Treesa giggled. “Nothing bad, of course! Only that you’re a very talented girl, and your parents ought to be proud of you.” She held out her arms, and Jisa accepted the hug and petting with good grace.

Medren watched as Withen greeted his sister and two eldest children. General Lissa wore one of the most daring gowns he had ever seen, leaving her muscled arms and shoulders bare, and her enthusiastic greeting seemed genuine. Savil, though, was barely paying attention to her brother.

Uncle Van looked like someone who wasn’t particularly happy to be where he was, and was trying very hard to hide that fact. It might have convinced anyone but a Bardic student. He had put some effort into grooming himself, which seemed like a positive sign compared to the last time; seeing Uncle Van in a dressing-gown with his hair uncombed had been terribly disconcerting.

Treesa pulled out a chair for Jisa, the spot at the foot of the table next to her, and then went to hug both of her children. She held Uncle Van for longer, kissing his forehead, ruffling his hair, petting him like a dog; he submitted to the treatment without protest.

Treesa greeted Lissa a little more stiffly, and Savil even more so – she didn’t embrace the older Herald-Mage at all, only curtsied and gripped her hands for a moment. Then she went to pull the bell-cord for a page, and Uncle Van stood where he was, eyes distant, until Lissa took his arm and guided him over to the table.

Medren could feel Stef’s humming tension beside him. He wasn’t surprised to see his friend’s eyes moving to track Vanyel. _Oh, Stef._

“Medren,” Uncle Van said, extending his hand over the table, silver eyes focusing on him. “It’s good to see you. Stefen, you as well.” He smiled warmly at Stef, who turned pink and ducked his head.

“It’s good to see you as well,” Medren said. “How–” He had been about to ask about work, but he wasn’t sure if Savil’s injunction not to was still in effect. “How’s your lady Yfandes?”

“Well, thank you,” Uncle Van said. “And your lessons?”

 _He’s lying_. At least, there was a great deal he wasn’t saying.

Stef was still radiating coiled-up anticipation, almost vibrating in his chair. Withen paced up and down the room once before taking his seat, at the head of the table. He lifted the decanter of wine. “Son, here, pass me your cup…?”

Vanyel had taken a seat about as far from his father as possible, across the table from Jisa, with Savil beside him, and Lissa separating the two of them from Withen.

“Going well, thank you,” Medren said, smiling back at Uncle Van. “Advanced Composition is very challenging for me. Stef’s a natural, though.” Sneaking a glance at Stef, he felt a flash of satisfaction as his roommate’s cheeks reddened.

“I thought he might be,” Uncle Van said, and there was real warmth in his smile. “I remember that song you played for me once, gods, must have been three, four years ago? Went like this–” He closed his eyes, humming. “That was you, right, Stefen? I thought it was quite good.” 

Stef’s eyes went very wide, frozen, and he emitted the faintest hint of a squeak. A few seconds later, he managed to bob his head. “Thank you, Herald Vanyel.”

“Oh, please. Call me Van.”

Stef seemed to have forgotten how to produce words. Medren smirked. _I shouldn’t make fun of you, it’ll only encourage it._

Uncle Van didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. His expression had flattened, and Medren suspected he was Mindspeaking with Savil. Lissa watched him intently, concern in her eyes.

 _What’s going on with you, Uncle Van?_ It wasn’t his business, and now certainly wasn’t the time to ask, but he was awfully curious.

“Stef!” Treesa burbled, taking his friend’s arm. “Do tell me more about…”

 _I’ll leave you to it._ Medren turned to Withen instead, who he imagined might be feeling rather left out. “Grandfather, what do you think of Haven so far? Has it changed much since you were last here?”

Withen’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “Well, lad, I haven’t visited since King Randale was crowned. Not sure I like what they’ve done with the new wing…”

The meal arrived, a cart pushed by two young pages in Palace livery, at least one of whom recognized Vanyel and went wide-eyed, and Withen got up to help carry the dishes in. Medren was relieved. He had been trying valiantly to make conversation, but his grandfather also seemed distracted. His eyes kept going to Vanyel, who had to be ignoring him on purpose.

For a few minutes, the conversation faltered, replaced by various murmurs of ‘pass the peas’ and ‘butter, please?’

“Have some more, Stefen!” Treesa chirped. “You look like you need it.” She pinched his cheek. Stef wriggled in his chair, but didn’t slap her, which Medren thought showed admirable patience.

Jisa twisted in her chair, scowling. “Is that meat loaf?”

“Yes, dear.” Treesa smiled sweetly at her. “Would you like some?” 

“No!” Jisa’s brow scrunched. “That used to be an animal. It was alive and had _feelings_. You shouldn’t eat it!”

Treesa’s hand fluttered to her chin. “What’s that, now?”

“Well, if _you_ were a cow, how do you think you’d feel about being murdered so someone could eat you for supper?”

Treesa’s forehead creased. “Jisa, pet, that’s not a very nice thing to talk about.”

“It’s not a nice thing to _happen_!” Jisa slammed her fist down on the table, which might have been more intimidating if she had been any bigger. It was mostly cute. _She’ll murder me if I say that out loud._ “It’d still be happening even if we weren’t talking about it!”

Medren peered around the table, trying to gauge reactions. Vanyel watched Jisa, pensive, and there was fondness there, even pride. Savil wasn’t paying attention. Lissa was smirking, and as for Withen, he looked like he might have if the silverware had stood itself on end and started to dance. Thoroughly discombobulated.

“But animals aren’t people,” Treesa protested.

“They’re almost people.” Jisa folded her arms. “We know that because of Animal Mindspeakers. My friend Featherfire who’s a Hawkbrother is an Animal Mindspeaker, and I read a whole book about it. Animals don’t think in words like we do, but neither do little children if you read them with Thoughtsensing, so it’s not any different…”

 _And there she goes._ Jisa going all-out at persuasion was a formidable sight. Her eyes were alight, cheeks flushed, and her hands darted about wildly.

She finally had to stop for breath, and Treesa managed to get a word in edgewise. “Van, pet, what do you think of all this?”

“Mother, she does have a point.” Vanyel’s lips were serious, though something in his eyes twinkled. “We know some animals are quite clever. A good horse, for example, say one of Meke’s war-horses – nowhere near a human, and they can’t talk, but they can learn, and they have personalities. Cows probably aren’t so clever as horses, but Animal Mindspeakers can read them, and they experience pain and pleasure just like we do.”

Jisa piped in. “Did you know, mother cows are _sad_ if their calves die?”

Uncle Van’s expression tightened, eyelids lowering to half-mast. Jisa noticed, Medren thought, and chagrin flashed in her eyes – but she didn’t stop. “Lady Treesa, don’t you think that’s bad?”

“I – I suppose so.” Treesa blinked rapidly. “Really. I never thought…”

“Most people don’t,” Jisa said, matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t make you bad. But you could decide to make a different choice now.”

Medren was marveling. _Gods, does she know how she sounds?_ Like a grownup in a little girl’s body, somehow even more convincing for being so unexpected, and he had a feeling Jisa knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes were imploring. _I wonder if she can cry on demand if Lady Treesa does eat the meat loaf._

“I used to eat animals too,” Jisa said, solemnly. “’Cause I hadn’t thought about it. I don’t think I could ever, now.” She gave the dish a look of distaste. “I see it and I just think about a cow looking at me.”

Lady Treesa had a queasy look on her face. She replaced the cover on the dish. “I’ll have to think on it more, sweet. But…perhaps no meat loaf today.”

Jisa’s beaming grin could have melted the heart of a hardened battle-commander, Medren thought; it was more than enough to make Treesa blush and ruffle Jisa’s hair. _I think the world of you,_ that smile said.

“Well, if _you_ don’t want any, please do pass it this way,” Withen said gruffly. “Tomfoolery!”

Jisa opened her mouth – and then closed it, subsiding. Deciding to quit while she was ahead.

“So!” Treesa said brightly. “Lissa, dear, are you seeing anybody? You never tell me anything in your letters.” 

“Mother!” Lissa brought a palm to her forehead. “Really!”

“Because if you do have a gentleman friend, I would be delighted to meet–”

“Fine. I have _three_ gentleman friends and I doubt you would approve of any of them.”

“Liss!” Teresa clapped a hand to her mouth. She pouted. “Don’t tease your old mother like that!”

“Mother, you aren’t old,” Uncle Van interjected, the words rote.

 _Isn’t she?_ Not as old as Savil, but she wasn’t a young woman anymore.

Treesa huffed and gave Lissa a pointed look over her wineglass, then turned to her son. “Well, then. Van, dear, what about you? Any special friends?”

Withen cleared his throat loudly.

Vanyel sighed. “No, Mother.” He aimed an apologetic smile in his father’s general direction, but Withen’s eyes were fixed on the table.

Treesa fluttered her eyelashes. “That’s too bad. A hero like you are, I would have thought–”

“Mother,” Uncle Van said tightly.

“Hmmf.” Treesa subsided. She sighed dramatically.

“Well!” Withen jumped in, with a hearty smile. “Greens, anyone?”

Supper wore on, about as smoothly as Medren could have asked. There was clearly something going on between Uncle Van and Aunt Savil, and with his Aunt Lissa, too. She and Uncle Van had always been warm with each other, he knew they were close, but something had shifted. A new intensity. At a wild guess, Lissa was furious about something, not with Van, but on his behalf.

Jisa and Stef were teaming up to do a very good job of keeping Treesa occupied. Something seemed odd there as well. They kept _looking_ at each other. Like they were trying to have a whole conversation with their eyes – and then one of them would sneak a furtive glance at Uncle Van.

_Damn it, Stef, what are you up to?_

Stef was perceptive. He had all the training Medren did, and he was better at it, even if he had his own odd blind spots. He had to be noticing the strange tensions in the room. Jisa was a trainee Mindhealer, and might see even more.

Medren hadn’t forgotten that day a week or so ago, when Jisa had climbed in through their window in the middle of the night. Whatever had been happening – and maybe it was still happening – Jisa was much closer to the center of it. Medren had tried very, very hard not to be curious, because it sounded like Herald-only business if anything was.

Despite the warning Medren had tried to give, he wasn’t at all sure Stef believed in things that weren’t his business to know.

Uncle Van had initiated conversation with Stef several more times, just as often as he addressed Medren. It was very entertaining to see Stef’s reaction, and his valiant attempts to hide it – though, as the evening stretched out, he seemed to be relaxing a little. Good. _You’re finally realizing that the famous Vanyel Demonsbane is just another human being._

Treesa kept craning her arm over Stef to top up Medren’s wine-glass, every time she refilled her own, and by the second course, watered or not, he was feeling it – a pleasant languid warmth that suffused his body, and made him want to laugh and tell jokes. In deference to Stef’s age, he and Jisa were only getting cider.

Savil had refilled her cup several times as well, and Withen was already halfway drunk. He had managed to start an argument with Lissa over something to do with Guard-levies, until Treesa sweetly asked him to please stop shouting, and he huffed and turned purple but changed the subject to something less fractious. Lissa had kept pace with her father – he refilled her cup along with his – but it showed only in her high colour. _Uncle Van did always say she could drink a dozen men under the table._

After a dessert of apples baked with honey, Lady Treesa ushered them into a cozy sitting-room. The dining room decorations might have been a collaborative effort with Withen, going by the stuffed stag head above the door, but this was _her_ domain. Everything was pink, frilly, lacy, or all three.

Treesa offered Savil the best chair, a padded and upholstered rocking-chair by the fireplace. Considerate of her, given that Savil’s joints often bothered her in winter. Treesa might be air-headed, but she had her own style of perceptiveness, and a kind heart.

Vanyel sat on the thick rug at his aunt’s feet, resting his head against her knee.

After a failed attempt to get Vanyel’s attention, Withen peeled Lissa away from the group, off toward the room that must have been his new study. Medren hadn’t been inside yet, though he had visited Treesa’s new ‘solar’, still mostly empty. _I wonder if she’ll bring her crowd of fosterlings over in spring._ Surely she was lonely without that, or even her servants from Forst Reach.

Within less than a minute Medren could hear their raised voices, muffled enough that he couldn’t quite catch the words. Treesa scowled, but let it slide, and went on chattering to Stef.

Medren went to sit in the loveseat by the window. The glass pane felt pleasantly cool when he rested his cheek on it. Maybe it would help clear his head. After all the wine he had drunk, he felt a little dizzy.

Jisa padded over. “Medren, can I sit with you?”

“‘Course.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Are you having a good time?”

“Very much!” She hopped up onto the seat. “Can I ask you a question?”

Even through the buzz in his head, Medren felt a sliver of wariness. “Of course, Jisa.”

“Stef. You’re his best friend, right?”

Medren nodded.

“So you must know him quite well?”

“…Yes.”

Jisa curled her knees in, and propped her chin on her fists. “Why is he the way he is?”

Medren rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Look.” She pointed with her chin, and Medren followed the gesture, watching Stef lean in as Treesa craned to whisper something in his ear. “He’s _performing._ He’s always playing a game. Putting on masks over masks. Like he’s wearing armour all the time, only made of words.”

What a poetic and uncomfortable comment. _Does she always go around making observations about people like this?_ Shudder at the thought of what she might say about _him_ behind his back.

“He guards himself,” Jisa said. “I don’t think he trusts anyone. Except you, and maybe Bard Breda. I don’t know why.”

Medren opened his mouth, to tell her it was none of her business, and then stopped. It wasn’t like Stef made a secret of his past. He had let the gossip run its course instead, until it was old news that one of the best and brightest students at Bardic, Breda’s favourite, was an orphan from the streets of Three Rivers. Any other student in the Collegium would be delighted to tell Jisa that background, and likely she would go there next if Medren refused. Better if he was the one to tell her – at least he had Stef’s best interests at heart.

Jisa might be a better friend to him if she knew. Like how it felt easier to be a good friend to Uncle Van, knowing _his_ history, even if they had never ever spoken of it.

He licked his lips…and lowered his voice, because even if it wasn’t a secret, it still felt private. “Stef didn’t have an easy childhood. He lived on the streets and he didn’t have parents to look after him. Reckon he always felt he was on his own.”

“Oh.” Jisa turned and watched Stef again for a while, lips slightly parted. “I think I see it,” she said finally. “Thank you.” Her eyes turned back to Medren, almost plaintive. “Isn’t that sad? If he’d had people to be his parents, he wouldn’t have to be like that.”

Medren frowned. “Stef does fine. I mean, I don’t like to think about what it was like for him when he was small, but…” He still remembered how different Stef had been when he first arrived in Haven. Scrawny, paranoid, freezing up the moment anyone raised their voice or even moved suddenly near him – and, even then, he had been performing. A game he must have played his whole life, where the stakes were his own survival.

“It still happened, even if you don’t think about it,” Jisa pointed out, though with no particular heat. “And it’s still happening, isn’t it? To other children. How many, do you think?”

“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea, Jisa.”

She went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “Once I overheard Mama talking…” Jisa leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “She has a magic sword, you know. It makes her a hero. She thinks I don’t know about it but it’s actually very obvious.”

“What?” That sounded very implausible, though he hadn’t thought Jisa was the type to make up tales. “Really?”

“Really.” Jisa pressed her hands together in front of her breastbone, rolling her paired fingertips across her lips. “Mama killed a man once,” she added, mildly. Like it was a minor sidenote. “Because he was being bad to children, who were orphans. Hurting them. That was here. In Haven. Even though Papa _lives_ here and he’s King, he can’t fix it. And Mama didn’t want to tell him, because – because he would feel guilty, that he can’t keep all the children safe even though it’s his job.” Jisa’s voice was light, but there was a quiet intensity in her eyes. “She told him anyway, because–” her voice caught, and she blinked rapidly, “–because it’s wrong to keep secrets.”

 _This is the strangest conversation._ It felt so out of place, in the pink, cheery candlelit surrounds of Treesa’s bower, Stef’s voice rising and falling in the background.

He was probably supposed to say something, when an eleven-year-old girl told him about littles being mistreated and her mother killing someone, even if it seemed like it had to be made-up. _I’m too drunk for this._ “I’m sorry,” Medren mumbled.

“S’alright.” She patted his knee. “I’m sorry to be maudlin.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

Jisa sat up straighter and smiled cheerily. “Let’s talk about something happier.”

Medren nodded, and when Jisa didn’t immediately go on, cast his mind about for something to say. “Uncle Van seems to be doing a lot better,” he offered.

That…didn’t seem to be what Jisa wanted to hear. She was making a deliberate effort to control her face, Medren thought, which was a bizarre look on her. She wasn’t very good at it.

Try another topic. “Had you met my aunt Lissa before? She and Withen are really going at it!” Their raised voices were still audible through the walls.

“Mmm,” Jisa said, nodding politely. “No, I hadn’t. Lissa’s nice.”

Medren found his head turning, unsure what had caught his attention. _Oh._ Aunt Savil, who had been lounging back in the chair, was sitting up straight now, and Uncle Van stirred as well. From their faces, Medren guessed they were Mindspeaking.

“No,” Savil said under her breath, “I’d rather not go all that way.” She raised her voice. “Treesa?”

“Yes, dear?”

It was Vanyel who answered. “Mother, could we borrow your solar for a meeting?”

Beside him, Jisa perked up, bare feet swinging down to the carpet.

“Of course. Please do.” Treesa started to rise. Stef was immediately on his feet, gallantly offering her his arm. “I’ll just go tidy up…”

“I’ll help, Lady Treesa,” Stef jumped in.

“You’re a sweetheart. Savil, who are you meeting with?”

“Shavri,” Savil said, tonelessly. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh!” Treesa bustled over to the loveseat. “Jisa, sweet, that’s your mother, no? I’m quite eager to meet her!”

Jisa wore an odd, frozen expression, and her eyes had gone wide.

* * *

Stef heard the scrape, and click, as the door closed.

Curled into a ball behind the gauzy drape of the tablecloth, he tried to breathe as quietly as he could. His back and thighs already ached, he barely fit and he had to hold perfectly still, but he was committed now.

It had been pure impulse that drove him under the side-table while Treesa was distracted answering the door. She was, as Medren put it, ‘a sweetheart but a featherhead’, and she would just think he had wandered off.

About thirty seconds later, his brain had kicked into action and started listing all the reasons it was a terrible idea. For one, Medren _wasn’t_ a featherhead, and he was going to be awfully suspicious when Stef failed to reappear. Two, what if he sneezed? It was a real danger; the dust he had stirred up from the rug was making his nose itch.

And three, if he _was_ caught, there was absolutely no way to play it off innocently.

_I had better not get caught, then._

…Fourth, everyone there was a Thoughtsenser, and being physically hidden wasn’t going to help at all if they even tried to check.

Bards weren’t taught to shield, not like Thoughtsensers and Empaths were. Then again, supposedly Bards didn’t have Sight either, and Stef already knew that was a simplification.

Breda said that Bardic Gift was a lot like Projective Empathy. Stef had played around projecting on purpose, even when he wasn’t playing or singing – to _push_ , from the place where music always lived deep inside him, and draw every eye in the room to him. Really, all Bardic students knew how to do that a little, even Medren, who disliked attention and normally didn’t.

If he wanted to go unnoticed by Thoughtsensers, could he do the opposite? Be small, and quiet, and boring. _Nothing to see here, move along._

He had no idea if it was working. All he could do was hope for the best. Hold his breath, and listen.

The scuff of a chair being moved. A rustle of cloth. Through the lace tablecloth, all he could see was shadows, but he thought someone crossed the room.

“Thank you for meeting on short notice.” The voice belonged to Shavri. Stef had only actually met the Healer once two years ago, after finding out about Lord Taving, and seen her other times in passing. She sounded very tired. “Savil, can you…?” 

“On it.”

A brief silence. So far so good. No one was shouting, or dragging the tablecloth aside to reveal him, so they must have been shielding and distracted.

“So?” Savil said, her voice weary. “What is it? I hope nothing urgent, I’ve had a bit to drink.”

“Just a question.” A strange pause. “And I would actually like Van’s input as well.”

An unneeded reminder that Herald Vanyel was right there, in the room, and Stef could picture his face perfectly. Damn it, Medren had been silently laughing at him throughout supper, every time Herald Vanyel asked him a question and he tripped over his own tongue. _I can’t help it that he’s gorgeous._

If he had been any less good at reading people, it might have given him hope that Herald Vanyel was interested in him – he had made a point of speaking to Stef just as often as he did to Medren – but Stef knew what else to look for, and he hadn’t seen any signs of _that_ sort of interest. Only ordinary warmth and curiosity, someone enjoying good company. Which Stef had earned, damn it. He knew how to be charming.

Speaking of that. _I ought to ask Medren if Treesa was actually flirting with me._ Flirtation was a common game at Court, but she had been rather more intense about it than he was used to.

Focus. It would be stupid to take the risk of hiding under a table to eavesdrop, and then miss the whole meeting because he was daydreaming.

“…on the northern border,” Shavri finished. “They’re waiting for our response.”

“Right.” Vanyel’s baritone – it had been surprising the first time and it was again now, he was so short and slim but his voice was unexpectedly deep. And lovely. _Gods, I want to hear him sing._ “You’re hoping we get the messenger out before this Lord Kaplar changes his mind?”

“Or before his little coalition falls apart,” Savil interjected, dryly. “You know they’re not _all_ happy with it.”

“Awfully convenient timing.” Vanyel’s voice was dry, a hint of bitter amusement that Stef didn’t understand.

“Kaplar sees which way the wind is blowing.” Shavri spoke heavily. “This came up before, but we’re taking his little proposal a lot more seriously than we would have a month ago.” She made a soft sound. “You know, if it weren’t for the situation, I would have a lot of doubts about how quickly we’re moving on this.”

Vanyel’s voice. “I think you’re right to worry. There are risks here. Long-term.”

 _What are they talking about?_ It sounded like planning for an alliance. The northern border. Was there even anything north of the Border? Based on Stef’s History classes, he thought it was all bandits and warlords and the sort of rocky hilly land no one would want to farm.

“To do with precedents?” Savil.

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking.” The scuff of shifting feet. “Even if it seems like we’re going to make the same decision in any case, which it does, I think we ought to take all the considerations.”

A longish silence. Stef wondered if they were Mindspeaking.

“We can afford ten minutes,” Savil said. “It’s not that kind of emergency.”

 _What kind of emergency is it, then?_ Unconsciously, Stef craned his head forward, as though inches would allow him to read their minds – and froze as something creaked.

No one seemed to notice.

“I don’t know how to think about this, yet,” Vanyel went on. “It’s just… There’s a resource that Valdemar has. Not tangible, but you could imagine it as something like a fertile field. A common-holding. It’s related to our reputation. As Heralds, and as a kingdom.”

“Hmm.” Shavri. “I think I see. The trust people have in us?”

“Yes. It’s like a field rather than, say, a gem-mine, in that it renews itself – it’s not like there’s a finite amount of trust, and counting on it uses it up. The grass grows back after grazing. But…not immediately. Let too many smallholders send their animals out, and it can’t keep up – the fields turn to desert. And there are ways to use it that do use it up. Like setting fire to the field to drive off enemies. We win in the short run, but we take that resource away from everyone who’ll come after us. ”

“Sunhame,” Savil breathed.

 _Oh._ Stef made the connection in a flash. Not all of it – he was still missing so much context, he was desperately confused and he _hated_ it – but the example, and what it meant, the concept hiding underneath. Under desperate straits, Herald Vanyel had used blood-magic at Sunhame, won the final battle and ended a war, but it had cost him something. Him, and everyone. Stef thought he could see it, how in some sense the scandal had been like burning cropland. It wasn’t that it had tarnished the reputation of all Heralds, he wouldn’t go that far – but it had prodded just a little in that direction. Even if Stef thought that was stupid and _obviously_ it had been necessary and right, he remembered the reactions of his fellow students. Confusion. Doubt. Horror.

Once was survivable, yet a precedent had been set, and it was hard to guess where that path would eventually lead.

“And with the north,” Savil said thoughtfully. “Valdemar does not invade and conquer.” The second phrase in a deeper register, rote.

“I see it.” Shavri, more energy in her voice. “We already came close to over-grazing that field, with Sunhame – the plan going in, I mean. It wasn’t an invasion on paper, but we know that was a stretch.”

“This is stretching it even further,” Vanyel agreed. “Even if it’s worth it, we mustn’t forget the downsides just because they’re long-term and hard to measure.”

A brief silence.

Savil. “Is that one of _his_ ideas?” Tension in her voice, and she put an odd, significant emphasis on ‘his’.

“…Probably,” Vanyel said. “Odd, I don’t think he named it. Still, it’s not something he would neglect to see.”

_Who in all hells are they talking about?_

* * *

Lady Treesa was talking to her, and Jisa smiled and nodded and tried to seem like she was listening. She wasn’t.

Mama was in that meeting-room, and Jisa couldn’t See anything useful; someone had put up a simple privacy-barrier that was more than enough to defeat her attempts at Thoughtsensing, and her Mindhealing Sight wasn’t telling her much, they were talking about ideas and not feelings. _If I were only a mage…_ But she wasn’t, all she had was useless potential that, according to Mama, certainly wasn’t going to awaken at this point, though Uncle Van had been sixteen when he…

And something horrible had happened to him. She still didn’t know the full story, she hadn’t wanted to ask him again and when she had asked Mama, the answer she had gotten was a hard look and a sharp-edged ‘it’s not a story for children.’

Words Jisa was thoroughly tired of hearing.

To make things worse, Stef had wandered off while she was distracted talking to Lady Treesa, and now her Thoughtsensing, gently extended, couldn’t find him in the suite. Maybe he had gotten bored, and assumed that she would be walking back with Mama once the meeting was done. It wasn’t like she needed him there; she was a big girl. Still, it stung that he hadn’t said goodbye. What if he had overheard her talking to Medren, and was angry with her? It might have been the sort of question that people considered prying, though Medren hadn’t acted like it was such a big secret–

 _It’s bad to keep secrets._ The guilt made her throat ache andthe back of her neck burn.

The guilt had been keeping her awake at night. She had been so angry when Mama kept secrets from her. That had to go both ways, or else it was like a book-of-accounts where the numbers didn’t balance.

Jisa knew what Stef would say – that it was different, because her mama and papa had started it – and yet, that wasn’t right either. Mama had always said, _you don’t hit back. Even if they hit you first. You have to be the better person._

Her parents weren’t making her do this. Stef hadn’t made her do it, though it was tempting to blame him. It was all her. That was what it meant to be a big girl. That the choices she made were hers.

Medren was looking at her oddly. Jisa tried to smile at him, reassuringly, and then turned her eyes back to Uncle Van’s mother.

Who was waiting expectantly.

Jisa played frantically over her half-attentive memory of the last thirty seconds. Something about her husband, a tailor, surprise–

Make a guess. “I’m sure he’ll like it very much!” she said cheerily. “You know him very well, and all the things he likes.” 

Treesa dimpled at her, and reached in to pinch her cheek. “You’re such a sweet girl, Jisa. So kind. Your mother must have raised you well.”

Jisa managed not to flinch, but it hurt inside. _Don’t say that. I’m not._ She had lied to Mama’s face, for the first time ever, when her mother had asked her why she had snuck out on Beri again.

Mama hadn’t noticed a thing, and that almost made it worse. _She doesn’t see me._

They were no closer to finding a way to help. Stef kept saying that they could figure it out, if they were clever enough, and then make a plan, but Jisa wasn’t sure anymore.

She was scared.

Stef was afraid too. He tried to hide it – the part of his mind that was self-reliance/self-preservation/self-respect/dignity was stronger than almost anyone she knew, she could practically See the litany of ‘never show weakness’ that played in him – but Jisa knew anyway. She wasn’t blind, or stupid.

He was afraid to get in trouble, because he was an orphan, lowborn, and if the King was angry with him there was no one who could protect him. Jisa thought that was silly; Papa wasn’t a cruel King.

Though she couldn’t be sure. Sometimes he had to do things he didn’t like, to keep the Council happy.

They both knew it was different for her. Jisa could almost see those wheels turning behind Stef’s eyes when he thought about it, and she might, maybe, sort of, have caught a few snippets of surface thoughts by accident. Mostly by accident.

– _Sweet girl, but she would be – highborn, sheltered – not spoiled, no, but never wanted for anything – the King’s bastard – he would do anything to keep her safe –_

Even if Mama and Papa were furious, they wouldn’t do anything really bad to her. They loved her. At worst, they would trust her less. Mama might send her away to the country with Beri, like she had once when she went away for the battle where Uncle Van and Aunt Savil invaded Karse, and had occasionally threatened to do since when Jisa didn’t listen to Beri or Melody.

All of that would be awful – but it was already awful, the weight of a secret burning in her, guilt and shame gnawing. Knowing just enough to guess that the truth was horrible, but not enough to fix it.

Jisa could feel a hardening resolve, deep inside her. Moondance had said to her, once, that she was like air and fire together. This felt different. It was stone, quiet and unstoppable.

“Lady Treesa,” she interrupted, smiling sweetly. “Please excuse me. I forgot, there was something I needed to tell my mama.”

Her choice. Not Stef’s. _I’ll keep him out of it._ That made her feel a little better. She would still be lying a bit, if she told them it had been all her and only her, but a little lie seemed less bad than betraying a friend.

Walk over to the door. Her heart was already throbbing in her chest, but it seemed far away. Jisa took a deep breath, and knocked.

Moments passed, during which she almost lost her courage and fled, and then the door opened a crack, and Savil stuck her head out, looking irritated. “Jisa? What–”

She slipped past her. Blurt out the words. “Mama, there’s something I need to–” Jisa cut off. Her shields were thinned, Empathy open and receptive, and she had just noticed something that, apparently, none of the others had.

_Stef?_

His curled-up presence was under a table, and he wasn’t shielding, exactly, but her Sight half-slid from him. Some kind of Empathic projection – no, Bardic, he didn’t have Empathy, but it was similar. _Quiet, boring, nothing to see here…_

Incredible. Fascinating. She hadn’t known he could do that.

Mama’s hands on her shoulders dragged her back to the moment. “Jisa, darling, honestly. Can’t it wait?”

“No, mama.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. Focus. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Mama was shielding hard, and so were the others, which was how they hadn’t noticed Stef. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t left at all – he had snuck in to eavesdrop on a private meeting! And he hadn’t even told her!

He couldn’t have, she reminded herself. He wasn’t a Mindspeaker, and it had probably been one of those quick opportunities, hiding when he heard them coming.

Stef wasn’t a Mindspeaker, but Jisa was, and she was very well trained. She reached out, tentatively, and tried to land a probe on the surface of his half-opaque natural shields. Gently. _:Stef, it’s me. Don’t worry. I won’t tell them about you:_

He couldn’t answer, of course, but she hoped he was relieved. Hoped he would stay out of it. She would have put her own shields on him to keep him hidden, but she didn’t know how to do that without touching him, and crawling under the table would give it all away.

 _:Is it private?:_ Mama said, concern creeping into her mindvoice, mixed with annoyance at the interruption.

“No, I can tell Uncle Van and Aunt Savil too.” She spoke out loud – if they used Mindspeech, she was worried that Mama would unshield enough to notice Stef. Besides, Stef was probably deadly curious about how they were going to react.

* * *

_Jisa, what in the name of all the gods are you thinking?_

Her voice in his head – and that had been one of the strangest experiences of his life, hearing/feeling her speak words into his mind – hadn’t reassured Stef much. It was kind of her to keep him out of it, but he didn’t want to think about how much trouble _she_ would be in. Besides, the meeting had been drawing to a close, and he had been anticipating his chance to escape. Now it seemed like Jisa intended to draw it out longer. Every second that passed was another chance to be noticed.

Stef was a bundle of nerves, every creak of the floor leaving him sure that someone was headed his way to rip aside the flimsy tablecloth and demand an explanation. _This was the worst idea._

He had gotten himself into this situation, though, and no one else was going to rescue him.

“Mama, Uncle Van…” A scuffing sound, like Jisa was shuffling her feet against the rug. “I know. About what’s happening.”

A long pause.

“What do you mean?” Shavri’s voice was very level. Controlled.

“I listened in. When you met in the Work Room. It wasn’t shielded against my Mindhealing Sight.” The words tumbled out, almost on top of each other. “I know that something’s wrong. There’s a danger to the Kingdom and Papa’s scared. Uncle Van, I know something happened with your Companion and that’s why you were having a bad time. And everyone was angry with each other, but Melody helped. Mama, Uncle Van, I’m sorry I eavesdropped and I know it was wrong and you’re going to be angry with me but I want to help!”

Seconds of deadly silence.

“Savil,” Shavri said, icily. “Please go tell Randi about this, _now_.” A pause. “Tell him not to come over here. I’ll bring her over in a few minutes.”

Footsteps. A door opened, then shut.

More silence, stretching out painfully. Stef sang inside his head, silently, pushing. _Ignore me, nothing interesting, nothing to see…_ He could hear Jisa breathing, and somehow he thought he could feel her, terror and misery. Waves of shame. Maybe she was projecting.

“Jisa.” Shavri’s voice was colder than should have been possible, coming from someone who was meant to be warm and soft. “Jisa, I don’t – What do you expect me to say?”

A very small voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t do anything. I thought I could trust you. Jisa, do you have any idea how serious this is?”

An audible gulp. “Mama, I know it’s serious. That’s why I want to help.”

“You’re not even eleven years old! You’re a child, Jisa. This isn’t for you to handle. I don’t know what you must think, that – that you’re _special,_ because of who your father is. It doesn’t work like that. Jisa, these are state secrets and you aren’t to know them. You can’t be involved. It’s too dangerous, and it’s inappropriate, and I can’t believe you’re putting your papa and I in this position. What were you thinking?”

“Shavri–” Herald Vanyel, hesitantly.

“Shush, Van. Jisa, you betrayed our trust. I thought you had better judgement than this.”

Stef wanted to cover his ears. He could hear Jisa sniffling, and he wished that – what? That he could comfort her, maybe, or better yet, somehow make the whole situation roll back and go better the second time. It wasn’t _fair_. She had been trying to help, and her mother wasn’t even treating her like a person. Just because she was young… It wasn’t fair that they wouldn’t listen or take her seriously.

A gusty sigh. “What am I supposed to do with you?” He heard a thud. Shavri stomping her foot, maybe. “You really thought it would help? Putting your father and I through this?”

Herald Vanyel. “Shavri, she’s only–”

“Van, later. Jisa. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

A sob. “I t-thought…be b-better…if I t-told you…”

“If you came clean? Jisa, I don’t know what you were expecting–”

It was too much. There was a pulsing red-black anger in Stef’s chest, it wasn’t fair, and he was sitting there listening to Jisa being punished for something that hadn’t really been her idea, and then punished _more_ for her honesty, she had only been trying to do the right thing–

She was protecting him. Because that was what friends did. _But I’m your friend too, Jisa._ How was he supposed to sit there and listen and do nothing?

_Don’t, this is a bad idea–_

Stef rolled out from under the table, meaning to come up into a crouch, but his foot caught on the edge of the rug and he tumbled end over end. “Stop!” Sprawled on the carpet, he managed to raise one hand. 

Utter silence.

“…Stefen?” Herald Vanyel’s voice, no anger in it yet, only confusion. Stef looked up, and found himself staring right into the Herald-Mage’s silver eyes.

Just that was enough to knock loose all of the words lining up in his mind. “I, I…” He looked around, hopelessly. Shavri held onto Jisa by a fistful of her gown, and both of them were staring at him with matching expressions of horror. For different reasons, he had to assume.

For some reason, Shavri wore a sword on a belt, over her Healers’ robes. Her free hand rested possessively on the hilt.

Jisa’s eyes darted to Vanyel, then back to him, and a hint of confusion crept into the frozen terror.

Herald Vanyel was the first to move. “Well, lad, get up.” He held out a an arm.

Stef blinked, and finally remembered how to move. He accepted the Herald-Mage’s outstretched hand, and pulled himself to his feet, then put both hands behind his back and fixed his gaze on the floor, fingers still tingling where they had brushed Vanyel’s skin. _I wish he would stop looking at me._ Even though Stef wasn’t making eye contact, he could feel the Herald’s gaze on him, and it was incredibly distracting.

“It wasn’t Jisa’s idea,” he said. “It was mine. I pressured her to do it.”

“No!” Jisa’s voice burst out. “Mama, he didn’t, it was my idea, I went to him for–”

“Jisa, be quiet–” Shavri started.

“It was my idea to eavesdrop and she tried to talk me out of it!” Stef said over both of them. “She came to me, but only because she was scared for you and I’m her friend. You should punish me, not her.”

“Mama you shouldn’t punish him, please please please, he was only–”

“Be _quiet_!” Herald Vanyel’s voice, and it rooted Stef to the floor, reverberating in his spine. “Better. There. Now. Everyone take a deep breath. Shavri, why don’t we take thirty seconds and actually listen to the children’s side of things?”

No one spoke.

A sigh. “This isn’t the best place. Let’s go on ahead to Randi’s rooms, Shavri, and sit these two down for a proper explanation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, that happened! There is going to be some *delicious* aftermath...


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some final aftermath!

_I’m in the King’s personal quarters. This is ridiculous, how did this happen?_

Stef sat in the lavishly comfortable chair that had been offered to him, knees pressed together, hands clamped around the cup of tea someone had put into them, generally trying to take up as little space as he could. Jisa was huddled up in the chair next to him, and her red eyes and tearstained face did seem to have eventually softened Shavri’s anger.

Stef kept trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him.

Herald-Mage Savil had been there when they arrived, but she had left after a couple of minutes. Herald Vanyel had stayed. He was standing by the window, and Stef was far too aware of his presence.

King Randale watched Jisa and Stef from the sofa where he sat, Shavri behind him, her arms protectively on his shoulders. _Gods, the poor man looks dreadful._ It was the first time in several years that Stef had seen him face-to-face, and he looked aged by decades – cheeks pinched, forehead lined, hair not so much greying as gone colourless.

He was in pain. It pulsed at the edge of Stef’s awareness, distracting him.

King Randale didn’t seem angry. Rattled, sure – when Jisa, prompted by her mother, pushed out the same confession to him, he had gone pale and needed to put his head between his knees. Stef had started to panic, for a moment it had seemed all-too-plausible that the shock of it would kill the King, and that wouldn’t have been good for his career prospects at all. Not to mention his chances of Jisa ever speaking to him again. No one else had seemed especially worried, though, and Randale had recovered after a minute or two.

“So that’s all?” Randale said, addressing both of them.

Stef nodded. There were a few more snippets of overheard conversations he hadn’t mentioned, but none of it had actually been that informative.

Herald Vanyel had been looking out the window, but now he was looking at Stef again. Stef didn’t know _how_ he knew that, since his eyes were fixed very hard on the bridge of the King’s nose, but he could feel those silver eyes like a weight on him.

“Trainee Stefen,” the King said. He leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand. “We both know that you’re an inordinately clever lad, with a habit of deducing things you shouldn’t possibly be able to know. What do you think is going on?”

Stef stared at him for a moment, disbelieving. _He can’t be –_ no, it seemed Randi really did want to hear about his reasoning. Stef felt his shoulders squaring, his chin lifting. A chance to be heard… He had better not waste it.

Start simple. “What I’m most sure of, is that there’s a threat to the Kingdom, and I think it’s related to some kind of mistake that, um, Herald Vanyel made.” _I hope he doesn’t hate me forever for saying this out loud._ “My top theory is that there was a secret mission, somewhere outside of Valdemar, that went badly, and either his Companion was injured, or she got left behind when he came back to Haven. I don’t know what the mission would’ve been about, but one theory is that it was a diplomatic mission to one of the other kingdoms we’re allied with, and he…made someone angry, there.”

If that was it, Stef guessed it would be Rethwellan, and that the faux pas had to do with Herald Vanyel being shaych – he had vaguely heard about Rethwellani prejudices. He kept that guess to himself, though. _I don’t want to embarrass him any more in front of the King._

“The other version of that theory is that he went off without your permission to do something. I have some other theories.” They were wilder and less plausible than the first, but Stef had tried very hard to consider all the possibilities. “I thought maybe a dark mage put a compulsion on him and forced him to put compulsions on some of the Senior Circle, and that’s why you needed to have everyone meet with a Mindhealer, and his Companion went away for a while because she couldn’t be with a Herald who was controlled by dark magic. Or, I thought maybe he did something bad and had his memory of it wiped, maybe by a dark mage as well, and even he doesn’t know why he did it.” Stef forced himself to meet Randale’s brown eyes. “King Randale, I–” Find the right words. “I know you think Herald Vanyel did something very wrong. That he showed bad judgement.” He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. “But I _know_ he was trying to do the right thing. To protect Valdemar–”

Stef cut off, interrupted by a strange noise. It sounded awfully like Herald Vanyel was trying to stifle laughter.

“What?” he said, feeling his cheeks heat. “What did I–”

King Randale held up a hand. He seemed to be holding back a smile as well; his lips twitched. “You can stop. Some very impressive analysis, especially given that all the information you had was what you could pick up with my daughter’s Mindhealing Sight and your Bardic Gift – I didn’t even know Bards had Sight! It isn’t any of those things, though.”

“Oh.” Stef deflated. _How did I get it wrong? I was so sure one of those had to be on the right track._ He had spent candlemarks coming up with every guess he could think of.

“Don’t beat yourself up. The truth is unlikely enough that I can’t imagine how you could have landed on it.” The King was almost smirking, now. “First rule of spycraft. When you’re following an inquiry, on limited information, it’s easy to construct a story in your head that matches all the facts – and it’s rarely the _only_ story that would do so.”

Behind him, Shavri emitted a strangled squeak. Randale reached up and squeezed her hand.

“You’re a talented youngster, Stefen. And you’ve put me in something of a quandary, because this is Herald business. A matter internal to the Senior Circle. You already know enough that you could cause us a great deal of damage, if you so chose – or even by accident, honestly. Loose lips have doomed armies before, lad.”

Stef stared at him.

“We can’t afford that.” The King folded his hands across his lap. “And so I’m going to give you a little more context, to assuage your curiosity. An offer of good faith.” A breath. “In exchange for your solemn vow that you _absolutely will not_ pursue this any further on your own.”

His voice had changed – there was a ringing authority in it, and all of a sudden Stef remember he was sitting in front of a man who ruled a Kingdom. Who ruled _his_ Kingdom, and somehow it was the first time that had ever felt real.

“With the Truth Spell,” his King went on, “so that I can confirm your honest intent. Understood?” His eyes turned to his daughter. “Jisa, pet, that goes for you as well.”

“Randi, you can’t–”

Randale held up a hand, and Shavri closed her mouth with a click. The King reached for her hand again. “Love, would you do the honours? First-level only, I just need to know they mean it.”

Shavri nodded, her face mask-like, and closed her eyes. Stef didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.

The King’s eyes landed on him. “Stefen, your oath.”

“I swear I won’t investigate any more on my own.” And, unfortunately, he had to mean it, because apparently Healer Shavri of all people could use the Truth Spell and she would know if he didn’t.

Maybe it was for the better. _Loose lips have doomed armies before._ He hadn’t even considered it – that, by his clumsy questions to servants in obscure hallways, he might reveal something that the Heraldic Circle couldn’t afford. It was a terrifying thought.

He bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

“I accept your oath, Trainee Stefen.” The King turned to Jisa. “Your turn.”

Stef managed not to gasp as a blue halo appeared around her hair, which Jisa seemed oblivious to. She stammered through similar words, not meeting her father’s eyes.

Only words. But words had power. As certain as a door falling shut, a bolt sliding home, locking both of them in. Finality in it – and he felt an obscure pain, thinking that, but a hint of satisfaction as well, even pride. He couldn’t name why.

“Good,” King Randale said. “Children, I don’t mean to punish you for your brilliance and ingenuity. Or your courage. Those are all qualities that the Kingdom needs a great deal of, and the last thing I want to do is stamp out that spark.” His eyes narrowed. “Unbelievable as it may seem, I do remember being your age. And exactly how badly I wished that the grownups would take me seriously. None of this is because of your youth, all right? I would have to say exactly the same things if you were adults, because neither of you are Heralds, or part of my government.”

Stef wasn’t sure he believed that, but the sincerity in the King’s voice tugged him to nod anyway.

“You were right,” Randale went on. “There is a threat to the Kingdom, and within the next few years we might well find ourselves at war. You were also right that this concerns Herald Vanyel, and some of his past decisions, although there was no secret mission involved.” His lips didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Stefen, I appreciate your passionate defence, but rest assured, I understand very well just how hard Vanyel was trying to do the right thing. The Heralds are united, and we are going to face this together. I can’t tell you that everything will be all right – it’s never in the hands of mere mortals, to guarantee that – but I can promise you, the Kingdom in is in good hands.”

His voice had fallen flat a little in the middle, when he said that the Heralds were united – it was subtle, something only a Bardic student would have noticed, but it was there. _He doesn’t really believe that_.

He nodded anyway, and then found the courage to turn and try to catch a glimpse of Vanyel’s face. The Herald-Mage was looking away again, but he must have sensed Stef’s gaze on him; he started to turn his head. Stef yanked his eyes back to his lap, cheeks flaming. _Damn it, how come every time he makes eye contact with me I turn into a gibbering idiot?_ It was humiliating. At least Medren wasn’t around to see it–

Medren. He wasn’t sure whether or not his roommate had spotted him, when Healer Shavri frog-marched him out of Lord Ashkevron’s suite. If he had, then Medren was going to have a lot of questions.

Probably a good idea to ask. “Your majesty?” His voice only trembled a little.

The King chuckled. “Stop that. Call me Randale, please. Or Randi. Outside the throne room, I’m just another Herald.”

 _That’s what they say, but it can’t actually work that way._ Stef tried to sit up straighter in the chair. “Um, Randale, what about my roommate? If he asks…?”

A raised eyebrow. “That would be Medren, no? Van?”

“My nephew, yes.” Vanyel’s voice was distant, distracted. “Stefen, just tell him you can’t say, and I think he’ll leave it alone. Send him to me if you have any difficulty.”

Stef made a face. Vanyel was right. _He’s about as curious as a bread pudding._

“I don’t want to punish you, exactly,” the King said slowly, “but I don’t mean to reward you either. I do want both of you to know that this just caused us a great deal of stress, and is going to be one more thing for me to worry about, at a time when I would really have preferred _not_ to have anything else weighing on my mind. You’re saddling me with the decision of whether or not to tell some of my colleagues who aren’t currently present that two youngsters were spying on them while they had all their shields down. That’s a betrayal of trust, and it’s _my_ fault – I’m the one who approved doing this, and promised everyone the Work Room was secure.

There was a hot, heavy feeling behind Stef’s breastbone. He let his hair slide across his face, avoiding the King’s eyes.

“Jisa, young lady,” Randale said. “I’m sure there’s _some_ kind of ethical standard around using your Gift, and I very much doubt spying on your parents and friends is approved. I am going to inform your teacher about it, and you’re going to tell her exactly what happened.”

A whimper. “But papa–”

“No buts. I won’t punish you personally, Jisa, but I’m leaving it up to Melody whether _she_ thinks this merits punishment.”

It was clear that both Jisa and her father expected the answer there to be ‘yes’. Stef fought the temptation to curl up in a ball, or throw something. _It’s not fair._ He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was.

“Stefen,” the King said slowly. “I don’t know what to do with you. I would sit you down with Breda for a review of Bardic ethics, except that I don’t particularly want to brief her on this. And, well – quite honestly, I’m not sure the regular Bardic ethics would cover it.” A gusty breath. “Valdemar does need spies. Rogue teenaged spies who set off giant scandals and get themselves tossed into rivers is what we don’t need.”

“That was two years ago!” Stef protested, before he could stop himself. Were they ever going to let him live it down?

“Be that as it may. I think…” He trailed off, and through a protective fringe of hair, Stef saw him turn to catch Herald Vanyel’s eye. “Van, are you…?”

“Hmm?” The Herald-Mage took a step over and perched on the arm of the sofa, reaching to touch Randale’s arm. Their expressions flattened for a moment; they were Mindspeaking to each other. _I didn’t know the King was a Mindspeaker._

“I need to think about it,” Randale said out loud. He shifted his weight, and suppressed a grunt.

The King was in pain, Stef thought. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, it didn’t show much in his face aside from a tightness around his mouth, but it tugged at Stef. Wanting his attention.

Stef hadn’t ever told anyone about his Gift – not Bardic, but the other Gift, the nameless one that he’d never heard of or seen described in any book.

Hadn’t he considered using it to get out of trouble, though, if he ever needed that?

It wasn’t clear that he was in trouble, exactly. At least not with the King, it was more complicated than that. Healer Shavri was simpler to figure out; she was furious with him. He could see it in the angle of her jaw, her lips clamped together until they turned white. Stef knew how to read people, even without the sensitivity of his Gift; Jisa’s mother was angry, and wounded, and she wanted someone to blame, and above all she was scared and frustrated and so, so tired. Her hand had never left King Randale’s shoulder, and she was a Healer – probably she was doing some kind of Healing-work, giving him the strength to push through this meeting at all.

_She might forgive me if I took away his pain._

It came to him in a flash of insight. A way out. It would sweeten Jisa towards him as well, a fraction of an apology for the mess he had made of her life by sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted and dragging her along with him.

Besides, it felt right. It didn’t seem _fair_ for a King to be hurting so much.

“King Randale!” he said, forcing the words out before he could lose his courage. “I, there’s something I should – can I just show you?” He wasn’t sure anyone would believe him, if he described it.

“Show me what, lad?”

Stef took a deep breath, and sang.

_It was just a week till Sovvan / and the nights were turning chill_

_And the battle turned to stalemate / double-bluff, and feint and drill_

The shock of being in the King’s suite must have addled his brains, because it wasn’t until the second stanza, when the strange echoes of his Gift picked up on the discomfort and embarrassment radiating from Herald Vanyel’s direction, that he remembered why he should have picked a different song. Too late. It would be even more awkward to start over now.

He felt his Gift sliding against the King’s mind, trying to find purchase, finally catching – and he _pushed,_ with everything he had.

Randale’s reaction was subtle. He sat up a little straighter, maybe. Shavri, though, was transformed. Her eyes had gone wide, and she stared at him, joy and hope and confusion all mixed together.

_Then the Singer Of the Shadows / saw her Shadows shatter there,_

_Saw her lies unmade before her /saw her darkness turned to day_

_And how empty and how petty / was the spirit then laid bare--_

_Like her Shadow then she shattered / and in silence passed away._

Stef finished the song, and let his Gift trail off. He could feel _something_ from Herald Vanyel’s general direction, some complex reaction, he wasn’t sure what – he hadn’t been putting much of his standard Bardic repertoire into the music, or aiming much of it at anyone except Randi.

“Oh!” Shavri’s free hand had gone to her mouth. “That’s – I can’t – gods! Did it really… Randi?”

“I felt it,” the King confirmed. “Stefen, lad, you’re quite remarkable. How did you figure out how to do _that_ with Bardic Gift?”

“Don’t think it’s Bardic Gift.” Stef was a little out of breath, more from the effort of pushing with his Gift than from singing. “It feels different, in my head.”

“It’s a Wild Gift,” Shavri breathed. “I can’t quite See – but almost… Jisa, pet? Were you watching?”

“I was, mama.” Jisa’s eyes were bright. “It’s not Bardic, it’s something else next to it. Stef, I saw you do it, before – is _that_ what it does?”

“It takes away pain,” Stef confirmed. “I think.”

“It seems so, yes.” Randi’s eyes were locked on him. “How long have you known you could do this?”

Stef tried to count back. “Five years?” Longer than that, probably, but he hadn’t had such a good sense of time, back in the before-days when he couldn’t read and had never even seen a calendar.

“And you never told anyone?” Shavri interrupted. “Didn’t you think–”

Randi lifted a hand, and she fell silent. “I’m sure you thought about telling someone, lad. And hesitated, because you didn’t know how they would react, what they would do to you?”

Stef nodded, avoiding his eyes. Now that he thought about it, he could practically hear Jisa’s indignant voice in his head. _You could have helped people!_ Jisa wouldn’t have kept a Gift like that to herself. And, gods – somehow he hadn’t even made the connection until now. Not just that he could earn the King’s favour, with this unheard-of Gift, but that he could help her papa.

It wasn’t pleasant, to feel put to shame by a girl three years younger than him.

“I can’t say I blame you,” Randale said. “It’s not an easy thing, being different.” He frowned, and Stef knew why – his pain was starting to creep in again, back from wherever it went when he worked his Gift.

“Stefen, could you show us again?” Shavri said. “And, a question. When you do this, is it like a Healer’s pain-sharing – are you feeling it?”

He shook his head. “No. You do?” That sounded awful.

“By the most common method, yes, and we can’t soothe all of the patient’s pain anyway. It’s not something we use often, because of that.” But Stef could guess, by the look in her eyes, that she used it with her – not husband – her partner, every day. “There’s another technique I created, but that acts on nerves, so it’s local, and it’s very short-acting anyway. So I am _very interested_ in whatever it is you just did.”

Her eyes bored into him, and Stef faced her without flinching.

Shavri rubbed her chin. “Actually, hmm, maybe I should ask Moondance–”

Randi held up a hand. “Shavri. I know you’re excited, but it’s late, and the children have lessons in the morning. It’s hardly an emergency. Why don’t we come back to this later?” His eyes shifted back to Stef. “In fact, I think I’ve decided on the other matter. Stefen?”

“Yes?” Stef tried to keep his face under control, and to avoid visibly quaking.

Randale smiled thinly. “I have an idea. You aren’t going to see this as a punishment at first, but you may change your mind after a few weeks.” He paused. “Please report to Herald Katha’s office with the dawn bell tomorrow. And every day after that. Should give you a candlemark or so before your classes start. Shavri, can you let Tran or Savil know and have them arrange it?” 

Shavri nodded, and her face slipped into the blankness of Mindspeech.

Stef licked his lips. _Who’s Herald Katha?_ “Randale, all right, but what–”

“Katha is my spymaster. I’m going to hand her the problem of dealing with you.” The King lifted a hand to his forehead. “Well. You heard Shavri. It’s late, and you have an early appointment. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

* * *

Vanyel closed the door on Stefen’s retreating back, and bolted it. He stood for a moment, staring at nothing, before he remembered how to take a step. Heading for the sofa, he took a seat on the end opposite Randi, and let his head fall into his hands.

 _Gods, what a day._ He felt like a child’s mistreated toy, dragged around on some wild adventure and then tossed into a corner. The shock and confusion, when Jisa had stormed in, and the sheer embarrassment when he realized he had managed to miss Stefen’s presence in the room. He had been shielding tightly – it was a terrible idea not to shield, around his family – but still.

Stefen. Vanyel still wasn’t sure what to think of him. Brilliant, clearly, with a sort of calculating ruthlessness that reminded him of Leareth; two years older and he had only gotten cannier. _I wonder what they would think of each other._ A pointless thought, apropos of nothing – it wasn’t like he would ever have a chance to learn the answer.

 _Kid’s going to go far,_ he had said to Randi, during their brief Mindspeech-conference where he had brought up the idea of dumping Stefen on Katha. _Might as well have him inside our tent pissing out_ , Randi had agreed, and Vanyel had been hard-pressed to hold in his snort of laughter. Nerves, mostly. He was exhausted, and a little drunk, he had been trying to pace himself but Mother had been very insistent on refilling his cup.

Vanyel still felt odd, remembering Stefen’s words to Randi. _I know you think Herald Vanyel did something very wrong. But I know he was trying to do the right thing. To protect Valdemar._ Facing the King, a slight figure that looked like a gust of wind might blow him away, but undeterred. Dauntless. Reminding him of a painting he had seen once in a chapel to Kernos – a demented, avenging angel, flaming wings and eyes that cut like blades.

 _He certainly stands out._ To be expected from a Bardic student. Not the best quality in a spy, maybe, but Vanyel had the feeling Stef was very, very deliberate about it. He had been unobtrusive enough while he was hiding under the table, for one, and Vanyel wondered if he had used some kind of Bardic Empathic effect to successfully hide from three Thoughtsensers – all of them shielding and very distracted, but still.

“We need to talk.” Randi’s voice interrupted his woolgathering. “Seems we’re well overdue for a little family chat.”

“Oh.” Vanyel lifted his head. “Should I go?”

“No, of course not.” Randi’s eyes creased at the corners in a smile that didn’t reach his mouth. “You’re family too, Van.”

…A warm feeling spread from his breastbone. It felt precious. Sacred. So much more than his own parents, and almost as much as Savil, Randi and Shavri were his chosen family. And Jisa… _Oh, pet. You don’t even know why you matter so much to me._

Even now, after all that had happened, Randi still thought of him that way.

“Shavri, love, sit down,” Randi said, patting the cushion next to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, as Shavri made her way around the sofa and joined him.

Vanyel reached out to her, both with his arm and his mind. _:It’s going to be all right, Shavri:_

She took his offered hand, squeezing hard, and said nothing. He could Feel the edges of her roiling emotions – anger, hurt, a desperate aching confusion. Layered around the pain was surprise and hope, the aftershocks of learning about Stefen’s odd Gift.

Jisa was still in the chair, knees pulled in to her chest. A pathetic sight, hair straggling free of her braid and hanging into her eyes, tear-tracks down her cheeks.

She sniffled. “Papa?”

“Yes, pet?”

“…Please don’t punish Stef too much.” She hugged herself, curling up. “Please.”

A sharp pang in Vanyel’s chest. _She’s still trying to protect him._

Randi smiled, sadly. “Your loyalty to the lad does you credit.” He ran a hand over his hair. “And his loyalty to you. I’m very aware that you were intending to cover for him, and it was his decision to reveal his part in it.”

Beside him, Shavri bristled.

Randi turned to her. “I know you have some things to say, love. Can we…” He stopped, his eyes going distant. “We’re all upset,” he said finally. “And stressed and tired, which is never a good starting point. Honestly, if we were sensible, we ought to sleep on it and come back to this in the morning, but I’d rather not go to bed with this still unresolved. Shavri, why don’t we – let’s all take a minute and do that thing Melody showed us.”

That was a good idea, and Vanyel was glad Randi had brought it up. Close his eyes, anchor in his body…

The slight lightheadedness and giddiness that came from too much wine was the main thing he was aware of. His eyes were hot and itchy with fatigue, watering, and the very beginnings of a tension headache lurked behind his eyes. Under that surface, there was…more lightness. Relief.

_Why am I relieved?_

The feeling shifted, restless. His thoughts wanted to tug toward the memory of Stef’s face. Not quite something unresolved – they had taken all the actions that made sense for now – and it didn’t feel unpleasant, only a pull on his attention. Like Stef was the shiniest thing nearby. _Well, he is memorable, that’s for sure._

Not the main priority to think about right now, though. Focus.

“I’ll start,” Randi said out loud. “I’m flustered, and I’m trying not to be cranky but I am. It was awfully nice not being in so much damned pain for a bit, though. That’s helping.” His hand drifted to Shavri’s shoulder, then reached to stroke her hair. “Van, you?”

Vanyel tried to retrieve the trail of his thoughts. “Right. I’m a bit out of it, sorry. And I’m incredibly relieved. That we’re finding out about this now, and that nothing worse happened.” If Jisa hadn’t confessed, and she and Stefen had kept mucking around the edges – or, hells, if Stef had let her keep him out of it – they might have walked into a much greater disaster, blind. _We can’t afford to have baby spies bumping around the Palace making messes._

Maybe he should have been angry, but he couldn’t muster it. It was incredibly obvious that Jisa had only been trying to help – and Stef as well, in his own quasi-manipulative way. He wasn’t a bad kid; his scheming was well-intentioned.

“Jisa?” Randi said. “How are you feeling?”

Jisa wriggled into a straighter posture. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. I don’t want you to be mad at Stef. It’s different for him, you don’t understand, Bardic is his only home. If you have him expelled he won’t have anywhere to go.”

“What?” Randi’s eyebrows rose. “Jisa, were you listening to anything earlier? I have no intention of getting your friend kicked out of the Bardic Collegium. Quite frankly, sending him to Katha isn’t a punishment at all. I’m giving him a chance to prove himself.”

Not that he needed it. Based on what Medren had to say about his roommate, Vanyel thought, Stefen was a rising star over at Bardic. One of Breda’s favourites, and Breda wasn’t easily won over. The youngster would do very well for himself, someday, as long as he could avoid sticking his nose into some other hornet’s nest and getting himself tossed into the river for his efforts.

Randi chuckled. “The only reason it counts as a punishment at all is that I’ve never met a lad his age who liked waking up early.”

Vanyel felt himself start to smirk, and tried to force his mouth back into an appropriate serious line. Herald Katha was one of the only people he knew who started her day earlier than he did; she was generally in her office well before the sun was up, bright-eyed and abominably cheerful. If Stefen was a normal teenaged boy in any way, that was going to drive him wild.

“Not to mention,” Vanyel added dryly, “we’re going to have to talk to Breda about that Gift of his. It would be ridiculous not to take full advantage of it.”

Randi’s lips twitched as well. “Of course. To start, I’m supposed to have that audience tomorrow afternoon. I was going to ask Tran to cancel, because I’m really not sure I’m up for it, but – well, why don’t we summon young Stefen for it, and find out if his Gift works for more than five minutes at a stretch? He’ll have to miss lessons for it, so I suppose Breda will want him to spend his evening on remedial work.”

 _And there we go, he’ll have his chance to serve the King – and no free time for the next year._ Which seemed like as good a way as any to keep him out of trouble.

Jisa’s lip trembled. “Papa, are you t-teasing me?”

“No, pet, not at all.” Randi’s eyes darted sideways to Vanyel, twinkling.

 _I don’t get why we’re both so giddy._ Maybe it was just the surprise of it all.

“Shavri?” Randi said. “What’s going on for you?”

“Randi, don’t–” Shavri stopped herself mid-sentence, and cupped both hands over her nose. “I don’t much want to talk right now,” she said finally, voice muffled, “but I suppose we’d better. So, fine. I’m angry. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

Randi laid a hand on her knee. “Shavri, I’m not – why do you think that?” He dragged a hand across his face. “I want you to be able to say what you’re feeling.”

“Oh? Because it didn’t seem like it, earlier.”

Randi’s hand crept to the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I was trying to solve a problem before, and I wasn’t listening to you. Now I am.” A hesitation. “We have to be able to talk about this. Please?”

Jisa, curled in her chair, made a soft sound.

Shavri very deliberately lowered her hands into her lap. “Jisa – why? What did I do wrong?”

 _Oh, Shavri._ Vanyel could understand why she felt that way, but it didn’t seem like the right way to frame it at all. It brought an echo of unwanted memory. Father, a vein pulsing in his forehead, too embarrassed to be angry. _What did I do wrong?_

A whimper from Jisa’s chair. “Mama, I’m sorry…”

Strained silence. Shavri’s hands twisted together in her lap, and she bit her lip until a bead of blood showed.

Vanyel reached out with a cautious Mindtouch, and she let him pull her into a private link. _:Shavri:_ he sent, pushing as much reassurance as his unreliable Empathy could manage. _:You’re finding it hard to talk about?:_ Wordless agreement. _:It feels too fresh:_ he guessed.

She didn’t even turn her head, but she leaned into the link. _:Van, Randi’s right. We mustn’t let it fester. I, just – Van, if I open my mouth I’m going to say something I’ll regret, and I won’t be able to take it back:_

On the one hand, he thought, it showed admirable restraint on her part – she knew how deeply her words, carelessly flung like daggers, could wound Jisa. On the other hand, something was badly wrong here, if she couldn’t speak her mind.

He remembered how he had put off speaking to Savil about Sunhame – and, years before, he hadn’t spoken to her about Deerford at all, even though in hindsight he obviously should have. Things might have gone better later if she’d had that context, and he might have made a better decision in the first place and avoided the entire thing. But it had been too fraught, too painful, and he hadn’t been able to find the right words.

Was that how it felt for Shavri, right now? They could wait, come back to it later when it was less raw, but that felt dangerous. Not just for Shavri’s sake, but for Jisa. She was an Empath, and for all her youthful bravado, she was very sensitive. If Shavri avoided her for weeks – like Savil had avoided him, once – it would be devastating.

 _:Shavri:_ he sent. _:Would it help to talk it through, first, with someone who isn’t Jisa?:_ In the case with Savil, that was what he should have done – gone to Melody, probably. _:I could–:_ No. Some part of him was suddenly sure that Shavri didn’t want Melody involved. _:I would be happy to talk to you for a while, or I’m sure Randi–:_

 _:Randi:_ Shavri’s answer was instantaneous, and it surprised him a little. In the past, her lifebonded had rarely been the first person she sought out, when she was confused and frustrated and needed space just to think.

Vanyel pulled Randi into the link as well. _:All right, you two should go somewhere else, and I’ll stay with Jisa:_ He didn’t particularly want to leave her alone to ruminate on how her parents suddenly hated her.

Randi rubbed the back of his neck for a moment longer, then started to rise – and groaned, settling back and waiting until Shavri was on her feet and offered her hands.

“Jisa,” Vanyel said out loud. “Your mama and papa need to go talk for a little while, but they’ll come back.”

Jisa nodded, and he could see how she struggled to control her face, blinking and gulping.

 _What do I say to her?_ Vanyel settled his hands in his lap. “You can come sit over here, if you want.”

Jisa hesitated for a long time before she scrambled out of the chair and padded over to the sofa. She sat with her feet curled under her, brown eyes fixed on her knees.

It felt somehow like he hadn’t really seen her for years. _She’s growing up so fast._ He could still remember holding her as an infant, when she fit on the length of his forearm. Sometimes it felt like yesterday; sometimes it seemed like a hundred years had gone by.

 _Gods, she looks like Meke at that age._ Vanyel kept noting flashes of it, in the square line of her jaw, the stubborn angle of her chin. He wondered if Mother and Father had noticed.

Jisa fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. Finally, she lifted her head, scrubbing at her eyes with one knuckle. “Uncle Van, are you angry with me?”

 _:No, I’m not:_ With Mindspeech, she would know he wasn’t lying. _:Jisa, I could wish you’d gone about it a different way, but I know you were trying to help. And we weren’t making it very easy, were we?:_

 _:No:_ A hint of indignation in her mindvoice. _:Mama wouldn’t tell me anything:_

 _:She was trying to protect you:_ Though, if he thought about it from her perspective for half a second, he could guess exactly how that would have backfired. _:That wasn’t not what you wanted, was it? I’m imagining you wished she would take you seriously:_

A frustrated huff. _:I wish she’d trusted me!:_

 _:I know:_ Vanyel held out his hand and, when she didn’t pull away, rested it on her shoulder. Looked into her eyes. _:Jisa, Shavri wants to make the world safe for you, and it hurts her that she can’t, so she’s tempted to hide the parts of it she wishes were different. I imagine a lot of parents feel that way:_ Not that Starwind and Moondance had the same problem, much; they already treated Brightstar like an adult. He wondered it if would help for Shavri to commiserate with Moondance on the joys and trials of parenting.

 _:Uncle Van:_ Jisa’s mouth was a stubborn line. _:I wish I was a mage like you. I wish I was Chosen. Mama and Papa would have to tell me if I was going to be a Herald:_

Gods. What was he supposed to say to that? _:…First of all, no. Jisa, the thing that’s happening–:_ If he spoke of it in Mindspeech, he was going to leak something, maybe more than he – no _._ If something of his frantic terror slipped through, so be it. Jisa had sworn an oath under Truth Spell, and he trusted her that far. _:The thing that’s happening, none of the trainees know about it at all. Most of the full Heralds don’t. Only about ten people in the Kingdom know more than you do, Jisa:_

A sigh. _:Oh:_

 _:And, secondly…:_ It was so hard to find the right words. Vanyel could feel Yfandes in his mind, listening; she had been there the whole time, but she wasn’t speaking up. _:Jisa, being a mage, being Chosen – none of that has much to do with how responsible you are:_

_:But Companions Choose good people–:_

He held up a hand. _:No. Well, I mean, yes. It’s a necessary condition, but not sufficient. You don’t think there are only a hundred-and-some good people in Valdemar, do you? That would be an awfully depressing world to live in. Jisa, there are a hundred times as many dedicated, hardworking, ethical people who aren’t ever Chosen. Like your mama:_

Who had been offered the chance to be a Herald, once, and turned it down.

_:But Healers are different–:_

_:I don’t think that’s true. Jisa, being a good person is a choice. It’s one you make every day – hells, it’s one I make every day. Having a Companion doesn’t make it any easier:_

_:Hey!:_ Yfandes interjected, teasing.

A teary, reluctant nod from the child in front of him.

 _I wonder if she will be Chosen._ Most youngsters weren’t Chosen until age twelve or thirteen, so it wasn’t out of the question. Yfandes offered no comment.

Vanyel reached out and took her hand. _:Jisa, having a Companion is hardly a guarantee against poor decisions:_ And he wasn’t going to go into any more detail, there. _:Including for people a lot older and more experienced than you. It’s not personal, and it’s not because your mama and papa don’t love you:_

 _:I know:_ She gave him a watery smile. _:Uncle Van, you will tell me, right? As soon as I’m old enough?:_

 _:Of course:_ The words slipped out unhesitatingly, and it was too late to call them back – but on reflection, he still meant it. Shavri might disagree with him on what age, exactly, counted as ‘old enough’ to know about an immortal mage lurking on their borders, but they could be in agreement that eleven was too young, and it was likely to be taken out of their hands at some point. It wasn’t like Leareth was going to politely wait for Jisa’s eighteenth name day to act.

Jisa sniffed, and started to wipe her nose on her sleeve. Vanyel jumped in, catching her wrist and then digging out his handkerchief.

 _:Thank you:_ She blew her nose, then looked plaintively. _:Melody’s going to be so angry with me:_

Real anguish leaked through in the overtones, and Vanyel bit down on a chuckle. He doubted it was at all amusing to her – the things that seemed small and petty to adults were anything but to children.

And maybe it wasn’t petty at all. It touched on the ethics of her Gifts, and that was an incredibly important matter. It seemed that maybe a conversation was overdue, here – he had assumed that Melody would be having those particular conversations with her, but it didn’t seem like it had really sunk in.

Choose his words carefully. _:Well, Jisa, is that something you could have predicted if you had thought about it in advance?:_

_:…Yes:_

_:So you know what you did was wrong:_

A slow, reluctant, half-unwilling nod.

_:Well, why was it wrong?:_

A long pause. _:Because I’m only meant to use my Gift with someone’s permission:_ Jisa sent finally, her mindvoice tentative. _:Unless it’s an emergency:_

The defensiveness in her mindvoice told him that some part of her wanted to argue that it _had_ been an emergency. _:Right:_ he sent. _:If it’s an emergency, I’m guessing there are still guidelines about what’s acceptable to do:_

 _:Yes:_ Reluctance, but understanding. _:Melody said I have to ask myself if it’s something the person would be glad I did, after. And even then I have to be very careful:_

Almost there… _:Why do you have to be careful?:_

A thoughtful pause. _:Because my Gift means I can change people:_ Jisa sent finally. _:But Melody says it’s wrong, to do that to someone against their will:_ She shivered. _:Melody says that when a patient is in their right mind, and they don’t want me to do something to help them get better, I have to listen and respect that. Even if they’re wrong:_

Jisa didn’t like that at all, Vanyel thought. _:Why?:_ he pressed, gently.

_:…Because it’s their mind. They get to decide who they want to be:_

Vanyel nodded. She understood the basics, he thought – she just wasn’t ready to fully accept all the implications.

 _:Jisa, your Gifts give you power over others:_ he sent. _:And with power comes responsibility. It’s not a license to do whatever you want. That would be just as bad as, oh, stealing people’s money just because you were bigger and stronger and you could:_

A nod. _:Then I’d just be a bully:_

Vanyel resisted the urge to chuckle; it was exactly how Medren had put it, once upon a time. _:That’s right:_

There was a long silence. _:Uncle Van?:_ Hesitation in the overtones, even fear, and something like shame.

 _:Yes, pet?:_ He matched his solemn expression to hers; it wasn’t a laughing matter to her at all.

Her mindvoice was very small, and she shrank away from him, shoulders hunching. _:…I think I might’ve done a bad thing:_

 _:Oh?:_ He took a deep breath. Whatever it was, she clearly expected him to be furious. _:Jisa, people make mistakes. I promise, I’ll do my best not to be angry, and we can talk about it:_

She was trembling, still avoiding his eyes, but her back straightened a little. _:When I was younger. Sometimes I, um…:_ She pulled her knees in, hugging them to her chest. _:When I was talking to someone about why killing animals is bad, and they weren’t – they wouldn’t even look at it! People were just playing along. They thought it was cute:_ Disgusted irritation in the word. _:But they weren’t actually listening! It was so frustrating, it was like everyone had horse-blinders on all the time. Like a block, except no one put it there, it was just their own mind that made it, and they couldn’t even notice that maybe this thing they’d always done was bad. So I, sometimes I… Sometimes I would use my Gifts. Just a tiny bit. No big changes. It was just to make them actually pay attention!:_ A shuddered breath. _:That was actually really wrong to do. Wasn’t it?:_

Oh. Gods. He was too startled to even think about being angry.

 _:I never did it with you!:_ The words were tumbling out now. _:Uncle Van, I promise I didn’t. You aren’t like that anyway, you actually listened to me:_

Well. Sort of. He remembered discussing it with Shavri, and Leareth, and he actually had started eating less meat, but it wasn’t like he bothered to argue it with Savil if she ordered supper for them and it had pork.

 _:I knew I wasn’t supposed to:_ There was guilt, there, but relief as well. _:I mean, Mama would be angry and so would Melody if they caught me. So I was careful. I knew it was against the rules, just, I didn’t think it was really that bad…:_

She looked expectantly at him. Vanyel tried to jar his frozen brain back into motion. _What am I supposed to say?_ It felt like surely he ought to shout at her, make it immediately obvious that yes of course it had been an awful thing to do and what had she been thinking. At the same time, though, some instinct in the back of his mind clamoured for caution. She was the one who had brought it up at all – she knew it had been wrong, and he thought she was halfway to laying out the reasons why on her own. Which seemed a lot more valuable, and likely to stick, then hearing them as a lecture form him.

 _:You though it was sort of bad, but justified?:_ Vanyel sent, gently. _:Jisa, I know it seems like some rules are stupid and don’t make sense, and sometimes that’s true – but Melody isn’t stupid at all, and she thinks carefully. She doesn’t just follow rules for their own sake. If she tells you not to do something, it’s because she’s gone through the consequences, and decided that in general it would do more harm than good. Do you agree?:_

Jisa thought for a long moment. _:I think so. She is very clever:_ Pride in the overtones.

_:Right. Now, you’re starting to worry that what you did wasn’t just technically against the rules, it was harming people. How?:_

Jisa picked at a hangnail, staring very hard at her lap. _:…I was sort of being a bully?:_ The sense of grasping at something vague, just beyond her fingertips. _:Even if it made some animals better off, because they didn’t get eaten, maybe it wasn’t fair to do it:_ She felt doubtful.

He thought for a moment. _:Jisa, imagine that… Hmm. Let’s say you had a different teacher, not Melody, and they thought it was very important for you to obey your parents. Lots of people do think that’s very important, right?:_

Jisa bobbed her head. _:Respect one’s elders:_ she quoted. _:That’s what the priest says at the Temple to Kernos:_

_:Right. Now, that teacher might talk about it with you, and explain why it’s so important – why it’s not just a silly rule like, oh, not talking with your mouth full. But they could also go into your mind and poke a bit, remind you how much your parents mean to you and how much you want them to think that you’re good, so that the rule seemed more important. It wouldn’t have to be a big change. How would you feel if someone did that to you?:_

He paused, watching her chew it over, the struggle clear on her face.

 _:I wouldn’t like that:_ she admitted finally. With obvious effort, she dragged her eyes to his face. _:It’s the same thing, though. Isn’t it?:_

 _:I think so, yes:_ Find the right words – he couldn’t just fall back on cliches, here, even if it felt a lot easier. Jisa was intelligent enough to notice. _:Jisa, people care about a lot of different things. Sometimes they disagree on what’s important, but each person’s mind is their own. Melody says that people get to decide who they want to be – well, you want that for yourself, right? It’s important to you to make your own decisions, and not have your parents or your teachers get to go into your head and make you into the person they would like you to be, even if that person is ‘better’ according to them:_

A fierce nod. _:And it’s not fair to do things to other people that I wouldn’t want them doing to me:_ None of the singsong-rote of ‘respect one’s elders.’ Clearly, this was one ethical rule that actually made sense to Jisa, deep down. She made a face. _:If Mama had said that I would’ve listened!:_

 _:I know. Jisa, we did you a disservice by not having this conversation a lot sooner, and I’m sorry:_ It felt like he had failed her personally, whether or not that made sense.

She fidgeted with her sleeve. _:Uncle Van, are you going to tell Melody?:_

He didn’t have the faintest idea. _:Do you think I should?:_

She squirmed. _:I stopped! I haven’t I’ve done it all for a year. It started to feel…a bit icky, or something. I mean, sometimes I use my Empathy a bit if Mama’s in a bad mood, but she’s noticed me doing that before and not told me to stop, so I don’t think she minds:_

Or else she had decided it was a battle she didn’t have the energy to fight. He believed Jisa that she had stopped throwing her Gift around to convince random courtiers to stop eating meat, though; it was very hard to lie in Mindspeech, and he didn’t think Jisa was at all capable of it. _:It’s still polite to ask:_ Vanyel sent. _:Maybe it’s silly of us, but sometimes we don’t like having someone sneak up on us and change our feelings, even if they’re bad feelings:_ He rubbed his eyes. _:Jisa, to be honest – I don’t want to go behind your back on this, but I think you should tell Melody. Ethics is confusing and difficult, especially so when Gifts are involved, and I think it will help you to talk about it. Plus, I expect you’re just going to feel guilty if you try to keep it from her:_ Deep down, Jisa was a good kid, and she didn’t like keeping secrets – the fact that she had chosen to come clean about her eavesdropping with Stef proved that.

There were a lot more threads he could have followed with her, trying to explain why it mattered so much that people could trust Mindhealers, but he was suddenly exhausted, and he thought Melody could do a much better job covering it.

He smiled crookedly. _:Now is a good time, because she’s already going to be pretty angry about what you and Stef did, and I’m not sure this part would actually make her any more upset with you:_ He suspected he would have been a lot angrier with her if it had come up on any other day – as it was, he had just about no emotions left to spare.

Jisa frowned, mulling that over, and eventually nodded. _:I do feel bad about hiding it. Maybe I should:_ A pause. _:Uncle Van, I wasn’t doing it this time! I wasn’t making people care about different things – I didn’t touch anything. I just watched:_

He met her eyes, steadily. _:And yet you know Melody would be angry. Can you think for a minute on why using your Gift to eavesdrop on a private conversation was abusing your power?:_

A frown of concentration appeared between her brows. _:…Because normal people couldn’t do that?:_ she sent finally.

_:That’s not all of it. Go on:_

She closed her eyes. _:I guess it’s like if I was bigger and stronger, and I – I hurt someone until they told me their secrets. That would be wrong too:_

Vanyel nodded, satisfied. _:That’s a good analogy. Jisa, using your special abilities to find out people’s secrets is another way of being a bully. I’m not going to say it’s always wrong – spies do it, under orders from the King – but you certainly didn’t have that. You did it without permission, and knowing that if we were aware of it, we would feel betrayed:_

Tears welled in her eyes. _:I’m sorry:_

 _:I know:_ Probably the point had been hammered home enough. He reached out patted her shoulder. _:You were trying to help – just like before, when you were younger and trying to help animals – but you didn’t think through all the consequences before you acted. That’s something you’ll learn with age and experience. Hopefully faster than I did. I needed to have that lesson hammered through my thick skull about a hundred times over:_

Jisa’s laugh was half a sob. _:Really?:_

_:Really. Your Uncle Van used to have a bad habit of charging into danger without a plan:_

Yfandes interjected again, mental laughter suffusing her words. _:Used to, you say?:_

 _:’Fandes!:_ he retorted, with a playful mental slap.

_:Well, it does make one wonder where she gets it from, because it’s certainly not Shavri:_

_:’Fandes, stop teasing and let me concentrate:_ He turned back to Jisa. _:Jisa, pet, that is part of why you’re not to know the full story yet – you need to prove to us that you can and will think before you act:_ Harsh, maybe, and she wilted under the stony overtones – but they were words she needed to hear. _:I know you can. You’re clever girl and you’re growing up faster than we can keep track of:_

Jisa nodded, sniffling.

Vanyel ruffled her hair. _:Jisa, I think Shavri wishes she could give you a little more time to just be a child, but – well, you know what you want, and I can’t blame you. You’re not the type to play with dolls when there are real problems in the world to be solved:_ He caressed her cheek. _:You can’t walk away, can you? Even when it hurts to look at, and it would be easier to pretend nothing was wrong:_

A fierce line appeared between Jisa’s brows. _:Pretending doesn’t make the bad things stop happening:_

It made his chest ache, but not in a bad way, more pride than pain. _:No, it doesn’t. And the fact that you see that – Jisa, that’s why I know you’re a good person, Jisa, even if you’ve made some mistakes in the past. Chosen or not:_

Her eyes bored into him. _:Uncle Van, could you make it so I was a mage? If I was I could fix–:_

 _:No. I can’t awaken your potential:_ He wasn’t sure he would even if they somehow uncovered the trick of it, no matter how much she begged; Shavri might never forgive him for it. _:Jisa, the Gift you do have is even rarer than mage-gift, and Valdemar needs it just as badly:_

_:But Queen’s Own Lancir was a mage and a Mindhealer and couldn’t I be both–:_

Don’t laugh at her, Vanyel reminded himself. This was clearly one of the most important matters in her world; he had never realized how much it was eating at her. _:Jisa, Lancir wasn’t an Empath like you are, and he was barely a Thoughtsenser. You have three strong Gifts, which is more than most Heralds–:_

 _:You have nine!:_ Jisa pointed out, lower lip jutting.

 _:That’s true:_ At a price that, some days, seemed far from worth it, and he didn’t feel like ramming it into Jisa’s too-young mind just how high the cost had been. _:I’m sorry, that probably does seem unfair. The world is like that sometimes. Jisa, I know you want to help the Kingdom. You will. I believe in you:_ He let out his breath, and held out his arms. _:Hey. Come here. I love you:_

She swarmed into his lap. _:I love you too, Uncle Van:_

 _:I know:_ It would have been hard to miss. She was projecting hard, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her to check her shields.

A whisper of Mindspeech, he wasn’t even sure it was on purpose. _:…Please don’t ever die:_

Pretend he hadn’t heard that, because it wasn’t like he could make that promise. _Everyone dies._

No. Not everyone.

But there were certain prices he wouldn’t ever be willing to pay.

* * *

Shavri lay curled around Randi’s spine, her cheek tucked into the hollow of his neck. She could feel the swell and ebb of his breathing against her chest, quietly reassuring.

_I never want to let you go._

Focus on that. Stay in the moment, the warmth of his body, room dark save for the red glow of the fire. Her heartbeat slowing to match his. _This. Here and now. This is what’s real._

She had taken off the belt and scabbard and shoved Need under the bed; it didn’t feel like she belonged, right now. Without the sword, languid exhaustion filled her, but that was all right.

It was a while since either of them had spoken. That was all right too. _I just want to be here._ On the heels of that thought: _where it’s safe._

Safe from what?

Randi stirred against her, starting to turn. _:Ready, love? I’m going to fall asleep if we cuddle any longer:_

No, not particularly – but as ready as she would ever be. _:Let’s go back:_

It was hard, to drag herself out from under the warm covers, and she felt the edges of Randi’s pain through the lifebond as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He could still do that much unaided – but for how long?

She took his arm, and they forged back out toward the candlelit sitting-room. _:Van?:_ she sent. _:We’re coming:_

He was still on the sofa, with Jisa in his arms, her face buried in his tunic. A sour ache bloomed in her chest. _Gods, am I jealous?_

She started to open her mouth, then reached out with a Mindtouch instead. _:Jisa, love. Can I talk to you?:_

 _:Yes, mama:_ Trepidation, and the buzzing exhaustion of a child awake far past her bedtime but too anxious to be sleepy. No hesitation, and Jisa leaned in to the link rather than away.

–It reminded her of the Work Room, and Vanyel in particular, the way he had held himself open, unguarded, not even trying to defend himself.

Shavri crossed the room, and knelt on the floor at Vanyel’s feet. She reached up and took both of her daughter’s hands. _:I’m sorry. I am angry, and justifiably so I think, but I’ve handled this badly:_

No answer, at least not in words.

Randi had eased himself down next to Vanyel, resting a hand on his daughter’s arm. Shavri pulled him into the link, and Vanyel as well. _:Jisa, I should tell you how it felt, for me:_ She hadn’t wanted to at first – some part of her was desperately conflicted over whether it was appropriate, she wanted to shout at Jisa until it somehow sank in how unacceptable it had been, and at the same time, she could guess it was fear speaking as much as anything, and it wasn’t her place to put that burden on her daughter–

In the end, though, Randi had convinced her it didn’t matter. _Don’t think of her as your baby_ , he said. _She’s not a part of you, or a thing you own. She’s her own person. Imagine how you’d approach it if, say, a Healer-trainee of yours did something extremely stupid…_

It was an odd way to think about it, and Shavri wasn’t sure she agreed, but Randi was persuasive. _:Jisa:_ she sent. _:My feelings are hurt and I feel betrayed. Which isn’t entirely fair to you, but, well. You didn’t trust me. You went to a Bardic trainee you had just met, who you had very little reason to have faith in, before you went to your own parents. It could have gone very badly if he hadn’t been trustworthy. You lied to my face, Jisa, and you would have gone on lying to cover Stefen’s part in it, if he hadn’t taken that choice out of your hands:_

A wet-sounding sigh. _:Mama, but I didn’t want him to get expelled:_

There was an admirable sentiment in there, Shavri had to admit – but not all good intentions led to good outcomes, and Jisa needed to learn that. _:He made his own choices, here. You’re not his keeper:_

_:I’m his friend:_

Shavri squeezed her daughter’s hands. _:I know:_

An insistent whine crept into Jisa’s mindvoice. _:It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I thought you didn’t trust me! I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared:_

Shavri bent her head over Jisa’s hands. _:It wasn’t your burden to bear, pet. We were taking care of it:_

 _:I didn’t know that!:_ And Shavri could feel the doubt in her; she still didn’t entirely believe it. Which, well, she wasn’t wrong, though Shavri felt a surge of irritation anyway. _:Mama, I am trying to understand from your side. I swear. Just, can you look at it from my side as well?:_

 _Ooh._ It stung, and Shavri squirmed, trying not to flinch away from it. Sit with the emotions that rose in her, the hot itchy anger that insisted it was disrespectful, for Jisa to push back like this. _She needs to learn –_ No. Stop. Jisa already knew exactly how angry she was. Leave it to Melody to have a much-needed conversation with her about Mindhealing ethics; that wasn’t what she was here for.

 _:I’ll try:_ she sent. Close her eyes. Imagine that she was the one who was not quite eleven. Scampering wild about the Palace, her parents too busy for her. Knowing something was wrong, because she was an Empath, how could she not–

 _:Mama:_ Jisa sent, pleadingly. _:Uncle Van said you’d understand. How much it hurts, to know there’s a problem you can’t fix:_ A hesitation. _:Uncle Van says you’re like me. You can’t walk away:_

It rocked her back on her heels, and brought the tears to the surface. Shavri let her forehead sink down to rest on where her hands clasped Jisa’s. Sturdy, callused fingers that were almost as long as hers, now.

Not a little girl anymore.

 _:Mama?:_ Confusion, worry. _:Why are you crying?:_

Because there was a crack in the foundation of the world, and something was terribly wrong with everything. _:Oh, Jisa… I wanted it to be different for you:_

Memories, flashing by. Sovvan-day in Van’s quarters, so many years ago. _His name was Kevran. He was five years old._ Not the first death she had seen, but the first time she had lost a patient who had been _hers_. Her responsibility. The first time she inscribed a name into the book she still kept beside her bed, and then knelt on her floor and burned a candle for someone else’s child.

The first of so, so many.

Herald Jaysen. _Cover Jisa’s eyes. She doesn’t need to see this._

Need’s whisper in her mind. _A mother’s courage is nothing to sniff at._

For years, she had held to that determination. That she would build a better, safer world, for her daughter – and if she wasn’t the right person, if she wasn’t the right shape to fill the void, she would build that person first.

 _:I failed:_ she sent. _:Jisa, I’m sorry:_

 _:Mama, no:_ Jisa’s hands tensed in hers. _:You didn’t fail:_

Shavri rolled over her. _:Jisa, love, I’ve made so many sacrifices, for the Kingdom. I told myself it was all for you. But I didn’t, I couldn’t…:_ How could she convey it? Guilt and regret and resentment, more than she could hold. _:And meanwhile I’ve been too busy to pay attention to who you are. I cheated you out of having a mother, and I thought it was worth it, but it wasn’t:_

 _:Mama:_ A sort of insistent patience in Jisa’s mindvoice. _:Is that true? Or does it just feel like it’s true?:_

Shavri, startled, lifted her head. _:You sound exactly like Melody:_ Well, Melody was her teacher, after all. Shavri had managed to forget that Jisa had been in lessons for almost four years, learning exactly those skills that had let Melody take a roomful of terrified, angry, bruised people and coax their pain out into the light.

 _:I’m sorry:_ she sent. _:I don’t give you enough credit:_

 _:Mama, why do you feel so guilty?:_ Curiosity, openness.

Because she owed her daughter better than this. A world where there were no wars. Where her papa wasn’t dying.

 _:You can’t control the whole world:_ Jisa sent, matter-of-factly. _:It’s silly to feel bad about it:_ A pause. _:Mama, can I use my Gift?:_

It would make her daughter happy, to be allowed in. A peace offering. _:All right:_ She parted her shields more fully, letting Jisa slip through, meshing more closely than they had in years. Once upon a time, they had always mindtouched like this. Years ago, she had let Jisa hone her Mindhealing-Sight on the playing-field of her own mind without thinking twice.

 _:You’re scared:_ Jisa sent. _:Can I Look closer?:_

Shavri sent her wordless assent and felt Jisa’s mind reaching deeper, like sunlight warming her insides. Thoughts and feelings rising, as though from a clear pool.

_– a bottomless pit – Randi I can’t – anything else – a wall of darkness across her future – have to be able to look at reality – I can’t, anything else but not that – not strong enough – he would forgive me – not the point – I can’t I can’t I can’t –_

Randi was still mindtouching her, and she felt his reaction, love and guilt. A little further away, she could sense how Vanyel started to flinch away, and forced himself to stay in the link.

Her eyes were closed, but the red darkness of her eyelids was suddenly soft, melting, colours shifting.

 _:I think you’re scared about Papa dying:_ Jisa sent. Simply, she didn’t try to hide the pain in her mindvoice but it didn’t take up much space either. _:No, it’s more complicated. You’re scared that no matter what, you fail someone? Oh. I don’t–:_ She felt Jisa back off, come in from another angle. _:Mama, I think some part of you wants to decide now that you won’t live after he dies. Because it would be too hard…? No, not just that:_ A pause. _:Because if you do survive, it feels like you loved him less? Mama, I don’t know if it’s that, does it…?:_

Like a blow to her gut, knocking the breath from her. Her own daughter shouldn’t have been the one talking her through this, sitting beside her and staring into that gaping chasm of terror.

 _:And you don’t want to think about it now, before it happens:_ Jisa sent. _:Why does that feel bad?:_

Because looking would make it real. Which was silly. It was already real.

 _:It’s not silly, mama:_ Gentle understanding. _:That’s how people are. But maybe it would be less scary, if you could look at it:_

Shavri was sobbing, curled over Vanyel’s knees, and she could feel Randi’s hand stroking her hair, Vanyel gripping her arm. _I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t…_ An endless litany, the part of her forever screaming into the void, and if it stopped–

If it stopped, what? Randi was right there. He had years left, and in that time, maybe they would find a cure. It wasn’t hopeless.

And it was exactly like he had said to her, before. _Nothing is forever, no one ever has that, but I want to hold onto you as long as I can. I want us to be happy together, until the end._

He would forgive her, no matter what happened – and he would treasure what they had as long as he could. Carriages passing in the night, but no less precious for being temporary.

So why was she still so afraid?

 _:Can you let go of it, Mama?:_ Jisa sent. _:Just for a minute?:_

Like untangling cramped fingers from a heavy object, she had been holding it for so long that she had forgotten how to stop carrying it. 

_If I die, I fail you. If I live, I fail Randi._

There, that was it, the desperate contradiction that lurked behind a veil of darkness. Dragged out into the light, it hurt – but cleanly, somehow. A blade cutting at her, not a festering wound.

 _Whatever you choose,_ Randi had said, _I forgive you. It’s not a betrayal. If you live on without me, or if you decide it’s too hard… It really is your choice._

She hadn’t really been able to take it in, before. Even in the aftermath of the Work Room, with her thoughts open and loose, it had been too hard. But something had shifted. Loosening.

 _:You wouldn’t be failing me, mama:_ Jisa sent, and it shouldn’t have been possible for a child’s thoughts to hold so much sympathy, so much understanding.

She could have basked in it forever.

…Her knees hurt, though. And she could feel Jisa’s patient willingness to go on talking all night, if that was needed, but her daughter was worn out. All of them were worn out. Vanyel was still in rapport, but she could feel the effort it cost him, to hold his center and focus on her, blocking out the spiralling reminder of his own grief. She hated to ask that of him.

 _This wasn’t the conversation I was expecting to have._ She wasn’t angry towards Jisa anymore. Maybe she never really had been – maybe under it all along she had been angry with herself.

 _:I love you:_ she sent. _:Jisa, pet… Thank you:_

_:You’re welcome, mama. I wanted to help:_

It felt wrong to accept that help from her daughter. _I’m supposed to support her, not the other way around._ Yet, maybe that was only words – a good rule-of-thumb, a general policy she had absorbed too deeply, forgetting it wasn’t fundamental to reality. Because, in this particular moment, it felt so, so right. Jisa was practically glowing, giddy with pride and relief.

 _:You did help:_ Shavri sent. _:Now, I think we had better go to sleep:_

 _:Mama?:_ Timid, almost embarrassed, and that was a rare thing for Jisa. _:Can I stay here with you and Papa?:_

A flash of memory. Years ago, when she and Randi still lived together in his old bedroom in Darvi’s suite, she had sometimes let Jisa, three years old and afraid of the dark, crawl into their bed and fall asleep between them.

Jisa was far too old to sleep in her parents’ bed, but all of a sudden Shavri didn’t care. _:I would like that, love:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that is the end of book 7, also known as "160k words of nothing but social drama." I hope that was an exciting ride for everyone... (Sorry not sorry). 
> 
> For the characters in this story, it's been, like, a couple of weeks since the revelation at the end of book 6. The messy feelings are finally drawing to a natural close, and book 8, "Nothing can I hold of you but thought", will cover some new ground and start going up next Friday.


End file.
